Coming Soon: Seduction of the Captain
Jun 27, 2011 
Filed under: BDSM, book release, erotica, excerpts, sci fi, shapeshifter
I have two releases in the first half of July: Protect and Serve: Sex on the Hoof and Seduction of the Captain, a BDSM sci fi set in the same world as Surrender in the Dark.
Seduction of the Captain by Silvia Violet
When Saida knocks on Kajinek’s door, he senses that she’s the partner he’s been looking for. He agrees to fly her ship under one condition; she must personally feed his darkest desires. Can Saida give in to what her body wants or will submitting sexually shatter the careful control she wields over the rest of her life?
Unofficial Excerpt:
Kaj opened the door of his resort-class suite and nearly stumbled as a heady female scent hit him with tangible force. He’d yet to probe the mind of the woman who’d interrupted his quiet afternoon, but her submissive needs screamed at him, begging him to take notice. His cock hardened instantly.
Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a braid that reached her waist. He fought the urge wrap it around his hand and crush her against him. Her skintight flight suit left little of her body to his imagination. Her muscles tensed under his gaze, and her green-gold eyes studied him suspiciously. She reminded him of a feline preparing to spring. He could smell her desire. Apparently he was affecting her as much as she affected him.
“Kajinek of Lalatia?”
He nodded, not sure he could keep the predatory growl out of his voice.
“I’m Captain Saida Alexander of the Allied Mercenary Corporation ship the Ascendant. I’ve come to offer you a job.”
Kaj smiled. He’d heard of Captain Alexander. She was well respected as a hard-ass leader who always accomplished her mission objective. For a captain of her standing to show up unannounced at his personal quarters, she must be desperate for his help. This must be his lucky day. “Do come in.”
He pressed at the edges of her impressive mental shields and gleaned just enough information to confirm what was already clear to him. While he doubted anyone else realized it, Captain Alexander longed to find a man strong enough to dominate her. She was desperate for the release she could never find with a partner who refused to test the limits of her strong will.
He’d not met a woman this compatible for his needs since leaving Lalatia. And he wasn’t about to let her get away. Before this day ended, she would be his.
“Have a seat, Captain.” He gestured toward the plush chairs in the small seating area near the window, which overlooked the station garden. “I’ll order us some refreshments.”
The sexy captain moved through his quarters with silent, controlled grace. He suppressed a shudder of anticipation as he imagined how she would move under him as he thrust deep in her body. If he didn’t watch it, he wasn’t going to be able to focus on the business at hand. He’d take whatever job she was offering, but he doubted she’d like his terms.
He knew his smile must be particularly predatory when her eyes widened. By Varin, she was going to be a feast. “Would you like some coffee?”
She still looked wary, but now he saw a hint of a smile. “Real, honest-to-God coffee?”
He laughed. “Of course.”
“Yes, please.”
He walked to his comm unit and pressed down the button that connected him with the resort concierge. “Please send up coffee and an assortment of pastries immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Alexander smiled, briefly losing her controlled exterior and looking almost girlish. “You needn’t go to the trouble, but I do appreciate it. I haven’t tasted real coffee in months.”
Her joy at this simple gesture stirred something in him even stronger and more potent than lust. Hearing her cry out his name as he whipped her ass would be delicious. But satisfying her enough to bring that smile to her face might feed something more than physical hunger in him. The thought unnerved him but made him no less determined to have her.
He sat in the chair facing hers. “So you’re in need of a pilot?”
The captain nodded. “The last pilot I hired proved unsatisfactory. We have a job in three days. I’d like you in the pilot’s chair.”
“What is this job?” His sensitive ears heard her pulse accelerate. What was she up to?
“We will act as escort for three ships intent on sailing through the Rebel-controlled sector of Quadrant 16. They’ll appear to be private cargo ships, but they’ll be manned by Imperial Intelligence agents.”
Kaj snarled. “I don’t do Imperial jobs.”
Captain Alexander arched a brow and held his gaze. The delicious smell of her fear belied her confidence. “I’ve heard you’ll take any job as long as the price is right.”
He gestured at the opulent room. “Does it look like I’m in need of work?”
“Lovely as all this is, you don’t strike me as a man who likes to sit on his ass. I think you need to fly. I think you need the rush of danger.”
He smiled, knowing she could see the swirl of orange and yellow flames in his eyes, a sure sign of a Lalatian’s anger or lust. “I do enjoy a thrill, but I can get that right here. You seem like a rather dangerous woman.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. The scent of fear deepened.
The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of coffee. Kaj was thankful for the distraction. His cock was harder than a steel rod, and he was close to pinning Captain Alexander to the wall and taking exactly what he wanted. His lack of control was appalling, but she was doing things to his libido that made him feel like a boy with his first trainer.
He took the tray from the delivery bot and poured coffee for the captain. As he handed her the mug, he let his fingers brush hers. He was rewarded by her sharp intake of breath.
The contact distracted her, and he felt her fear ease, supplanted in part by lust. He couldn’t help but smile as he sat down, taking a sip of the delicious, strong coffee he’d grown addicted to.
Giving Alpha Males the Partners They Deserve
Jun 23, 2011 Filed under: erotica, guest blogger, web event, writing
I’m blogging at TRS today about why I think alpha males deserve partners with strong personalities. Stop by and let me know what you think.
Interview and Chat at Whipped Cream
Jun 22, 2011 Filed under: chat/contest, erotica, web event
Stop by Whipped Cream today and read my interview where I discuss erotica, porn, and sexy foods such as chocolate cake.
Then hop on over to the Whipped Cream Yahoo group and chat with me today. I’ll be sharing excerpts, recipes, and answering your questions.
Hump Day Eye Candy, June 22
Jun 22, 2011 Filed under: eye candy
Anticipation
Guest Blogger: Viki Lyn
Jun 21, 2011 Filed under: chat/contest, guest blogger, m/m
Today author Viki Lyn joins us to talk about her brand new book and help us get to know her better.
Leave a comment on this post for a chance to win a free ebook from her backlist.
Tell us about your new release.
Fighting Chance is the second book in my m/m vampire series Chances. Corbin Hamilton is a vampire slayer (Kresnik) that has the responsibility of keeping an eye on vampire, Johan. Johan is taking an experimental anti-vampire serum, hoping to turn back into a human. Much to Corbin’s irritation, he’d rather killed the bloodsucker, not rehab him. Yet, he can’t ignore the sexual tension between them. It’s thick and rife with obstacles.
What happens when a slayer begins to desire his enemy?
I didn’t set out to write this book, but when I finished the last chapter of the first book in the series – Last Chance – the story between Johan and Corbin had to be told! Plus I received tons of fan mail asking for their story.
What is your favorite genre to write? What other genres do you enjoy?
I love writing male/male romances, both contemporary and paranormal. I have written a few historical romances (under another pen name!), and I enjoyed researching the different time periods.
Do you have a favorite character from one of your books?
I get asked this a lot, and really, all my characters have a special place in my heart. My parents didn’t play favorites, and that’s how I’ve come to view my characters, as my children!
Is there a style or genre of writing that you haven’t tired yet but you’d like to explore?
I would like to write a fantasy novel. My paranormals are very close to fantasy in the way I approach world building. I’d almost name them para-fantasy, but I’d love to write a story with elves and dwarves and wizards!
How do you make time in your life for writing?
This is my career so I’m blessed that I don’t have to work 8 to 5. That doesn’t mean I write every day. My creative self is fickle! I see myself as an ocean wave. Crashing forward and then receding – crashing forward – receding. My friends and family come first. Then my writing… I’m lucky to publish three books a year because it takes me a while for the story to unfold in my head. I live with my characters 24/7 until the story is completed. When I’m not writing, it doesn’t mean that I’m not thinking about the characters or the storyline.
What do you like to read? Do you have some favorite authors?
I enjoy reading across genres, mysteries topping the list. I collect DC comics and Japanese manga (yaoi), and these give me my quick-fix reads. On my nightstand is a mystery by Rennie Airth, River of Darkness. It was nominated for the Edgar Award. The setting is England after WWI. I enjoy historical mysteries, and Jacqueline Winspear writes beautifully. She has a mystery series I’d highly recommend – Masie Dobbs.
If you decide to take a Saturday off, what are we likely to find you doing?
Meeting friends for coffee and dessert and watching a movie on Netflix.
Choose six adjectives to describe yourself.
Casual, curious, odd, optimistic, impulsive, nerdy
Describe the perfect meal.
Roast beef and vegetables cooked by my grandfather (he was an incredible cook!), served with a Cabernet, and afterwards, espresso and a piece of lemon cake.
If you were a dessert what would you be and why?
Lemon Meringue Pie – sweet but with a tangy aftertaste!
Thanks for joining us today Viki!! Learn more about Viki at her website or her blog. Or join her on Twitter.
Don’t forget to leave a comment for Viki so you can be entered to win a free book!
Recipe: Pancakes and Bacon Cupcakes with Maple Bacon Icing
Jun 20, 2011 Filed under: book recommendation, recipes
So after spending a rainy afternoon during which AJ Llewellyn and Serena Yates seduced me with the amazing descriptions of cupcake delights in their book, The Cake, I had to do some cupcake baking of my own. So after looking at few recipes online and pulling ideas from here and there, I made up a recipe for Pancakes and Bacon cupcakes and topped them with Maple Bacon icing. They turned out just like I wanted them and now I’m afraid I’ll want to make them every morning.
Pancakes and Bacon Cupcakes
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 t salt
1.5T baking powder
1 3/4 cups milk
1/4 cup maple syrup
1 egg
2T melted butter
4 pieces cooked bacon, crumbled
Preheat oven to 400F.
Mix dry ingredients. Add egg, milk and syrup. Stir until well combined. Add melted butter and bacon pieces. Stir until just incorporated.
Fill muffin cups halfway and bake for 15 minutes. Cool completely before icing.
Maple Bacon Frosting
8 T butter
2 T bacon drippings
1/4 cup maple syrup
2 cups powdered sugar
1/8 t salt
4 pieces cooked bacon, crumbled
Use a mixer to whip butter, bacon drippings, salt, and maple syrup until fluffy. Add powdered gradually until well combined. Add bacon pieces and mix until incorporated.
Coming Soon! Protect and Serve: Sex on the Hoof
Jun 16, 2011 Filed under: book release, erotica, excerpts, m/m, paranormal, shapeshifter, vampire
Only three weeks left until the release of Sex on the Hoof, this is my second contribution to the Protect and Serve series and my first m/m story. Sex on the Hoof features Jason, Natalie’s brother from Savage Wolf and it was a blast to write. I can’t wait to share it with everyone!
Sex on the Hoof by Silvia Violet
A stag and a vampire. Mortal peril. True love.
Deer shifter Jason Fleetfoot has turned his life around. After years of taking chances, he’s got a job as a crime lab technician, and he’s determined to forgo the risky behavior of his past.
Then he meets Drew Danvers, the only undead detective in the city. Jason hates vampires, or does he? Drew defies all the stereotypes of his kind and something about him has taken hold of Jason and won’t let go.
Will Jason take a chance on a man others would label a risk to his health if not his very life?
Unedited Excerpt:
I’m Jason Fleetfoot. I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life. The
stupidest of all was taking a job with some assholes intent on manufacturing
illegal chemical weapons.
My sister, Natalie, lost her job when her company folded, and I lost mine
because my fucking boss was a bastard. I’ve got authority issues. And control
issues. Alright, I’m seriously fucked up, but I wasn’t going to let my sister
starve because I couldn’t keep it together.
So I made a deal with the devil and damn near got myself and Natalie killed. She
saved me, she and her cop boyfriend, Wolf. The name’s not a joke. He’s a
werewolf. Did I mention we’re shifters, Natalie and I. Deer shifters. If you
think my human form is impressive, you should see me as a ten point buck. So
yeah, a werewolf and a deer shifter. Somehow they’re making it work.
As much as I hate being beholden to Wolf, I wouldn’t be where I am now if it
wasn’t for him. Once the cops cleared me, Wolf helped me get a job in the crime
lab where I can use my knowledge of chemistry and computers for the good guys.
As the newest hire, I work nights, babysitting the equipment and working on what
comes in during the wee hours. For the most part, I like it. It’s quiet and I
get a chance to play around with new techniques and do a bit of programming.
There’s only one problem, Detective Drew Danvers.
He works nights too. Not because he’s new, because he’s a God-damned vampire.
They say he was Changed against his will. But what the hell was he doing picking
up a vampire at a bar? I certainly have no intention of fucking a vampire. No
matter how damn fuckable Drew is.
Yeah, I like men, what of it? And Drew is a fine specimen of a man, like some
Viking warrior. He’s at least 6’3″ with sculpted arms and pecs that make him
look like he could lift a truck one-handed. Considering he’s a vamp, he probably
can.
Getting involved with Drew would be stupid on too many levels to count. And I’m
finished with making stupid decisions. So why does my body want so desperately
to be impaled on him – his cock, his fangs, anything he’d like to stick in me.
Natalie’s right, my dick really doesn’t communicate with my brain. I don’t just
want to fuck him, I want to be taken by him, and I never want that. Like I said,
I have control issues. But with Drew . . . No, there’s never going to be
anything with Drew.
I hear the buzz that signals someone entering the lab. I glance around from
behind the mass spec machine. Shit! Speak of the devil or in this case his
undead minion.
My pride will not let me hide even though I want to. I’m not afraid of him, even
if I should be. I’m just afraid my unruly cock will give away my interest.
His gaze slides up and down my body. He’s looked at me like this before. But I
have never been sure whether it’s sexual interest or him salivating over me like
I’m a piece of the lush chocolate cake my grandma used to make on Sundays. “You
alone in here, Fleetfoot?”
Shit, maybe he does mean to make a meal out of me. No point in lying though. He
probably already knows the answer. Aren’t vampires supposed to be damn near
omnipotent? “Newton called in sick, and everyone else is out in the field.
“Good.” Danvers smiles, still eyeing me like I’m prey. If I was in deer form I’d
bolt, white tail flagging danger. But I’m a man and his ice blue gaze has me
glued to the spot. God above, he’s gorgeous when he smiles. My cock is starting
to get uncomfortable in my jeans.
My heart pounds as I try to interpret his response. Does he mean “good I’m going
to give you to the best fuck of your life” or “good I’m going to drain your
blood and leave you for dead”.
Hump Day Eye Candy, June 15
Jun 15, 2011 Filed under: eye candy
Guest Blogger: Lauren Gallagher/L.A. Witt
Jun 14, 2011 Filed under: guest blogger
Hi Lauren! Thank you for joining us today. Would you start off by telling us about your latest release?
My latest is Damaged Goods, written under the name Lauren Gallagher (my M/M books are written as L. A. Witt). Damaged Goods was just released by Loose Id, LLC, and the blurb is as follows:
Jocelyn Rhodes is a single mother with a demanding career and a long-neglected libido. Frustrated with the dating scene and way overdue for some satisfying sex, she takes a friend’s advice and hires Sabian, a deliciously sexy escort. He’s well worth the money, and the sheets haven’t even cooled off before she’s ready to call him again.
The more time she spends with him, the more she realizes she and Sabian have more in common than she thought. She’s a single mom, he’s a prostitute, and when it comes to dating, they’re both damaged goods. To most potential mates, Jocelyn and Sabian are in a category akin to dented soup cans, but if the two of them can look past each other’s respective dents, they just might find something they’ve both been missing.
But even if they do find that something, how on earth can she make a relationship work with a man who sleeps with other women for a living?
The book is available here.
What is your favorite genre to write? What other genres do you enjoy? – Contemporary M/M erotic romance is probably my favorite, but I’m also really starting to enjoy some flavors of urban fantasy. I just finished the first book in a vampire/were series, and I’ve got a shapeshifter book, Static, due out this month from Amber Allure. So, I’m kinda dabbling in a little of everything right now, and enjoying the variety.
Do you have a favorite character from one of your books? – It’s impossible to nail one down and call him/her my favorite, but Scott Moore, the Dom from Light Switch and Reconstructing Meredith, is definitely high on the list. I also adore Nick Swain and Andrew Carmichael from Cover Me. They came back as secondary characters in Trust Me (the sequel, due out in July from Carnal Passions), and they’ll be back center stage for the third book, Search Me, which will be out later this year.
Is there a style or genre of writing that you haven’t tired yet but you’d like to explore? – Historical. Now that I’m getting into steampunk, I’m itching to write some actual 19th century historical, but God only knows when I’ll work it into my schedule.
How do you make time in your life for writing? – My husband would say that it’s the other way around: I make time in my writing for everything else. LOL I do try to balance work and play, but let’s face it, I’m a workaholic.
If you decide to take a Saturday off, what are we likely to find you doing? Snorkeling or wandering around Okinawa with my camera in front of my face.
Choose six adjectives to describe yourself. Eccentric, neurotic, insecure, shameless, crazy, prolific.
Describe the perfect meal. – Kobe steak and Japanese curry. OMG. I wasn’t a fan of curry before I came to Japan, but it is so. Freaking. AWESOME. It has a milder spice and stronger flavor than Indian, and…yeah. Awesome.
If you were a dessert what would you be and why? Something with pineapple in it. Why? Because pineapple is awesome. They have a pineapple farm here where you can get pineapple ANYTHING. Cookies, tarts, jam, cakes, pies, little cookies made out of two pancakes with pineapple jelly in the middle, pineapple creampuffs, all kinds of things. And they’re completely and totally—sorry, what was the question?
Would you share an excerpt or two?
Jocelyn Rhodes is a single mother with a demanding career and a long-neglected libido. Frustrated with the dating scene and way overdue for some satisfying sex, she takes a friend’s advice and hires Sabian, a deliciously sexy escort. He’s well worth the money, and the sheets haven’t even cooled off before she’s ready to call him again.
The more time she spends with him, the more she realizes she and Sabian have more in common than she thought. She’s a single mom, he’s a prostitute, and when it comes to dating, they’re both damaged goods. To most potential mates, Jocelyn and Sabian are in a category akin to dented soup cans, but if the two of them can look past each other’s respective dents, they just might find something they’ve both been missing.
But even if they do find that something, how on earth can she make a relationship work with a man who sleeps with other women for a living?
EXCERPT
Eight fifteen, the blue numbers on the clock beside the bed announced without enthusiasm. Fifteen minutes till showtime.
It was a decent hotel. Not the Four Seasons, but not a roach-infested shit hole. A pair of queen-size beds. Thick drapes to block out the rest of the world and its prying eyes. A couple of watercolor prints so bland they almost disappeared into the pastel wallpaper.
It was the kind of place with people in nearby rooms and reassuringly thin walls. The murmur of room 412’s television was just barely audible, and earlier, room 416’s shower had added a whisper of white noise for a few minutes. At least this place wasn’t Hotel No-One-Can-Hear-You-Scream, though if everything went according to plan tonight, the guests in the adjacent rooms would probably wish it was.
Rather than staring at the other bed, which was already turned down in undeniable anticipation of the next few hours, I focused on one of the watercolors on the wall, though I had virtually no interest in the lifeless image of some flowers in a vase. I’d once heard that there’d been studies performed that determined pastel colors had a soothing effect on people. Rumor had it some sports teams had painted the visiting team’s locker rooms with that scheme in mind. I couldn’t say if it ever worked on a rival football or baseball team, but it didn’t do a damned thing to slow my pounding heart or unwind my knotted stomach.
What the hell am I doing here?
Groaning, but not loud enough for it to carry into neighboring rooms, I rubbed my eyes.
I had everything. The husband. The kids. The white picket fence and the moat of perfectly manicured grass encasing a flawless suburban four-bedroom on a street where nothing ever happened except gossip and barbecues. A sensible car. A refrigerator covered with grade-school pictures, grocery lists, and Garfield magnets. A calendar full of meetings with prestigious clients and blowhards.
Oh, and a drawer full of sexy lingerie I hadn’t worn in years.
I had had everything.
I did still have most of it. The kids, the car, the house. The overloaded calendar and neglected lingerie. Thanks to that calendar, the grass wasn’t so perfectly manicured anymore, but my son kept it trimmed enough to appease the homeowner’s association.
The husband was long gone. Amicably divorced, happily remarried, completely oblivious to where I was tonight while the kids were with him.
Yeah, I had everything. Which was, of course, why I now reclined on a rented, rock-hard, queen-size bed, waiting for a male prostitute to show up.
No, not a prostitute. An “escort.” So said the company’s site, the woman I’d spoken to on the phone, and Kim, the friend who’d referred me to Elite Escorts to begin with. An “escort” who’d meet me in a hotel room and do anything I asked in exchange for three hundred prepaid dollars.
Not a prostitute at all.
Eight twenty-one. Nine minutes to go.
“Trust me, Jocelyn,” Kim had said. “These guys are top quality. You won’t regret it.”
Wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t regret admitting I was so desperate for headache-free sex that I’d pay money to skip the crap and get to the fun part. I was buying sex. Nothing to be ashamed of or regret or hope to God no one ever found out about.
I groaned again, and this time the other guests might have heard me, but the TV noise didn’t falter, nordid the silence in the other room. This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. What was I thinking?
I knew exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking about the fact that I hadn’t had a decent night of no-strings, no-bullshit sex in entirely too long. I’d wondered for a while if it was even possible to have sex without first killing an evening feigning interest in the uninteresting, talking about anything except the reason we were both there, all the while dancing the dance of “I want this; do you want this?” until someone finally broke down and made a move. And even then there was no guarantee the sex would be good.
That was just the headache that went into trying to get a one-night stand. The very thought of what it took to kick-start a relationship these days made me want to scream.
Why was I here? Because I wanted to skip the song and dance, cut to the chase, and maybe have some sex that wasn’t so hilariously bad it warranted a “you won’t believe this” conversation with my girlfriends. I had more of those stories than I cared to admit.
Eight twenty-four.
I checked my cell’s sent messages for the thirtieth time to make sure I’d sent the right room number to the phone number the agency had given me. The room was correct, the message had transmitted, and my stomach tightened a little more.
Now that he was mere minutes away, another thought occurred to me: what if I wasn’t attracted to this guy at all? Every photo on the site had been gorgeous, but that didn’t mean a thing. I’d done enough online dating to know how deceptive a profile picture could be. It wasn’t that I was excessively picky, but the fact was love was blind, lust was not. I didn’t need Adonis, but I could do without the Elephant Man.
Kim had spoken highly of the agency, though, and she was the princess of pickiness. Any man for her had better be well-dressed, well-groomed, and well-hung, and if he couldn’t get her off at least twice with his mouth, she wouldn’t return his calls. Couldn’t imagine why she was thirty-nine and still single.
That pickiness was why she’d started using Elite Escorts to begin with.
“Once in a while,” she’d told me, “I just want a long night with a beautiful man who wants nothing more than to make me come and fuck me senseless.” And in spite of the fact that I eventually wanted a husband, or even a lover who stuck around for more than a few months, that was all I wanted tonight.
Of course, that wasn’t addressed directly in my interactions with the agency. We’d discussed the things I didn’t want and didn’t allow, all the while very carefully avoiding saying I wanted to have sex with the escort or that he’d be willing to do so. I paid for his company tonight. What happened during the allotted time was up to me, and it cost the same if we spent the evening playing chess, discussing the weather, or…not.
All the cloak-and-dagger of coded phrases and carefully worded questions added to the thrill, but it also made me nervous. What if I got caught? What if my man of choice tonight — a tattooed, goateed escort named Sabian — had a badge in his pocket instead of condoms?
An arrest for soliciting sex from an undercover cop. Oh, Lord, I could only imagine how that would go over at the advertising firm where I worked.
Fuck, what am I doing? I had kids to think of. And a career. My ex-husband had never tried to take the kids from me, but if he found out about this little indiscretion, then what?
I glanced at the clock. Eight twenty-seven. Blood pounded in my ears. Sabian would be here any minute.
I could always go the cowardly route and simply take what I’d paid for: his time and company. Sex wasn’t required. It wasn’t all that unusual for an escort to do exactly as his name suggested and escort his client to a restaurant, the opera, wherever. Perfectly legal. Perfectly socially acceptable.
And perfectly boring.
Eight twenty-eight.
Any second.
To hell with chickening out. I hadn’t shelled out this much money to sit with the guy and talk about bland watercolor flowers. Odds were, he was legitimate, and my libido was pretty persuasive with its suggestions that it was worth the risk that he wasn’t.
Eight twenty-nine.
But if my ex found out. If my boss found out. If my kids found out.
Eight thirty.
I need this. I want this. I’m going to do this. Shit. I can’t do this.
A sharp knock startled me.
Too late for second thoughts.
Gulping back my nervousness and ignoring the swarm of cracked-out butterflies in my stomach, I rose and approached the door warily.
I took a deep breath. Turned the deadbolt. Opened the door.
Madre de Dios.
Standing across the threshold was the kind of man who’d never have noticed me if I hadn’t just put a few Benjamins into his pocket. In photos, he was gorgeous. In the flesh, absolutely stunning. His light brown hair was playfully mussed, the look that was just shy of an engraved invitation to run my fingers through it. His hazel eyes edged closer to green now than they had in his photos, which was probably just a trick of the light. He was several inches taller than me with a flat stomach and broad shoulders, and I immediately had the impression he could throw me around and get rough if I wanted him to, and I did. Hell yes, I did.
The Elephant Man he was not.
Damon Bryce is worried sick when he doesn’t hear from his girlfriend after she visits her estranged parents, but when he checks up on her, he’s in for the shock of his life: She’s a shifter, part of a small percentage of the population who can shift genders at will. Thanks to her parents, though, she’s been forcibly given an implant that leaves her static—unable to shift—and male.
Alex Nichols desperately wants the implant removed, but getting it out isn’t nearly as easy as putting it in. The surgery is expensive and dangerous. Left in, the implant carries its own set of risks, with the potential to cripple or even kill him. On top of that, he’s carefully kept his identity a secret from more people in his life than just Damon, and his parents aren’t the only ones appalled by shifters.
Stripped of half his identity and facing serious physical effects and social ramifications, Alex needs Damon more than ever, but he doesn’t see how their relationship can get through this unscathed.
Especially if Alex is a static male permanently.
EXCERPT
When my girlfriend’s cell phone went straight to voicemail for the fourth time in twenty-four hours, “worried” didn’t even begin to describe it.
I paced beside my kitchen table, eyeing my phone like it might suddenly spring to life with her ringtone the way I’d begged it to all day long. I hadn’t expected to hear from her last night. She’d had plans to have lunch with her estranged parents yesterday, and after those get-togethers, it wasn’t at all unusual for her to hole up in the house and block out the world for a while. It bothered me and worried me whenever she did that—the woman could drink like nobody’s business when she was upset—but the next morning always meant a text message saying she was okay. Hungover, probably depressed as hell, but okay.
This morning, that text didn’t come.
More than likely, things hadn’t gone well. They never did. I’d told myself all day long that she just needed some space, some time. I didn’t want to crowd her or smother her when she needed to be alone, but damn it, something about this raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
I looked at my watch. It was almost eight. Over thirty-six hours since she was supposed to meet them. Almost forty-eight since I’d heard from her at all. Something was wrong. It had to be.
Without another second thought, I grabbed my phone and keys. I hoped she’d be irritated with me showing up at her door. Annoyed by the intrusion, aggravated by me coming to her before she was ready to interact with the outside world again. At least that would mean she was home safe.
I pulled out of the driveway and ignored the posted speed limit. We lived about twenty minutes apart, and I was determined to get there in under fifteen. Ten if I could swing it.
I’d never met Alex’s family. She’d told me little about them, but just the way her hackles went up at the mere mention of her parents’ existence spoke volumes. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the least if they had abused her when she was young, and not just in the emotional, manipulative ways I assumed they still did. She was prone to unpredictable bouts of deep depression, which had been more frequent and more severe in the last six months or so. She went through phases—hours, days, weeks—when she’d balk at any suggestion of physical intimacy. Sometimes she didn’t mind an affectionate touch, but recoiled at the first hint of anything remotely sexual. An arm around her could make her melt against me or shrink away like a beaten dog, and I never knew when to give her space and when to give her a shoulder.
Then, almost overnight, she’d be insatiable in bed. Whenever I asked her about it, she clammed up. Apologized, avoided my eyes, changed the subject.
What did they do to you, baby?
I supposed it shouldn’t have surprised me that she’d refused to discuss the idea of getting married. After two years, I was more than ready to make this permanent, but she wasn’t. A couple of her worst depressive episodes were close on the heels of those conversations, so I’d let the subject drop. I just hoped she’d come around eventually. I’d wait. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Turning down Alex’s street, I took a few deep breaths and willed my pounding heart to slow down. She was fine. Probably drunk and upset, but no more worse for the wear than the last time she saw her mother and stepfather. I was overreacting. I was being too protective.
Or maybe I wasn’t.
I chewed my lip as her house came into view up ahead. Her car was parked in front of the garage, and the faint glow of a single lamp illuminated her living room window. There were no other cars in the driveway or on the street, so presumably she was alone. Assuming, of course, she was home. Someone else could have driven her somewhere, or she—
Easy, Damon. Don’t jump to conclusions yet.
Heart still pounding, I parked beside her car. On my way up to the porch, I hesitated, wondering for the hundredth time if she’d be upset with me showing up when she clearly didn’t want to see anyone. No, she’d understand. She might be pissed off at first, but when she calmed down, she had to understand why I was concerned.
After almost turning back twice, I made myself get all the way on to the front porch, and before I could find another reason to talk myself out of it, I knocked. Waited. I craned my neck a little, listening for movement on the other side of the door.
Nothing.
My heart beat faster. I knocked again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
I rocked back and forth from my heels to the balls of my feet, staring at the door and wondering if I should give it one more try or leave. In my coat pocket, my keys ground against each other as I ran my thumb back and forth over them. Her house key was on the ring. I could let myself in. Damn it, where was the line between intrusion and caution?
One more try, and if she doesn’t answer, I’ll go.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Silence.
I exhaled hard, a knot twisting in my gut. She wasn’t here. Or she wasn’t answering. Whatever the case, I wasn’t going to stand here all night, so I turned to go.
Movement inside the house stopped me in my tracks. I froze, listening, and the muffled sound of approaching footsteps sent a cool rush of relief through my veins.
The deadbolt turned. I exhaled.
Then the door opened, and that relief turned to something else. Something much colder.
“Who the—” My breath and voice stopped in my throat. Confusion and fury slithered through my veins as I stared at the man on the other side of the threshold. He leaned on the door and rested his arm on the doorframe. Vague surprise flickered across his expression and straightened his posture, but the heavy fatigue in his eyes kept his reaction subdued. I wondered if he was drunk. Or maybe he’d been asleep. In my girlfriend’s bed. That was all too likely, I realized: he was pale, sleepy-eyed, dressed only in a pair of grey sweatpants, and his short, dark hair was disheveled enough to imply far more than I ever wanted to know.
Alex, baby, tell me you didn’t…
I finally found my voice again. “Who the fuck are you?”
Barely whispering, barely even keeping his eyes open, he said, “You might want to sit down for this. Come in and—”
“Just tell me what the fuck is going on,” I snapped.
He flinched, closing his eyes. “I can explain.” His voice was quiet and slurred. “Please, just—”
“You can explain?” I snarled. “Yeah, please do, because—”
Flinching again, he put a hand up. “This isn’t what it looks like. Not even close.”
I laughed bitterly. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not.” With every word, the barely contained fury rose, as did the volume of my voice. “I suppose you’re just keeping her company? Where the fuck is she? Where—”
“Damon.”
“You…you know who I am?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, I do.”
The anger swelled in my chest. “But you’re still—”
“Please.” His hand went to his temple, and he grimaced as he whispered, “Don’t shout. You’re upset, I get it, I understand, but…” He winced. “Please. Don’t. Shout.”
I furrowed my brow. Anger made me want to grab his shoulders and show him the meaning of the word “shout,” but I held back. Quieter now, I said, “What’s going on?”
He stepped back and gestured for me to come in. I hesitated, but then followed him into Alex’s house.
He closed the door and leaned against it, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. A low, pained sound escaped his throat. The light in here was dim, but not enough to hide just how pale he was.
“Are you—” I eyed him. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Lowering his hands, he rested his head against the door. Dark circles under his eyes and a dusting of five-o’clock shadow along his jaw only served to emphasize his alarming pallor. After a moment, he opened his eyes. He winced and brought his hands up again. “This is going to sound weird, but bear with me. I need to lie down.”
“Why?”
“Because when I stand, my head hurts so bad I can’t see straight.” With what looked like a hell of a lot of effort, he pushed himself off the door, paused when his balance wavered, then started toward the living room. I wasn’t sure if I should be impatient or concerned. At this point, the one thing I knew was that he was the only one who might know where Alex was, so I followed him.
With his back to me, a small white bandage was visible in the middle of his back. Perhaps two inches square, taped in place over his spine a few inches above his waistband. My own spine prickled with goose bumps. Contrasting sharply with his pale skin was a smear of something brownish-red. I thought it might be blood at first, but it looked too orange. Iodine, maybe? The remnants of something used to sterilize skin before a medical procedure?
Eyeing the bandage and the iodine and this stranger in my girlfriend’s house, I wasn’t sure this situation could get any weirder.
He eased himself onto Alex’s couch like he had every right to do so, and I took a seat in the recliner. For a long moment, he kept a hand over his eyes and didn’t speak. He took a few long, deep breaths, jaw clenched and cheek rippling as if trying to keep himself from getting sick. I might have suspected he was severely hungover or something had it not been for that bandage.
I waited. A million demands, accusations, and pleas for information were on the tip of my tongue, but I waited.
Without lifting his hand, he finally spoke in a quiet, vaguely slurred monotone. “None of this is going to be easy for you to hear, and I’m sorry I didn’t explain it a long time ago.”
I blinked. A long time ago? I’d never seen this guy in my life. Just how long had this been going on? Was he the reason she didn’t want to get married? I bit my tongue, though. Let him explain, then get pissed.
“Damon,” he whispered. “I’m a shifter.”
My heart stopped. “What?”
He swallowed. “I’m a shifter. This—” He gestured at himself with the hand that wasn’t shielding his eyes. “—is my male form.”
Confusion kept the pieces from falling to place for several long seconds. Then those pieces did fall into place, and all the air left my lungs in a single exhalation.
No way. No fucking way. But, how? She was…
I somehow managed to pull in another breath. I moistened my lips.
“Alex?” I whispered, almost choking on her name.
With a single, slow nod, he jerked the world out from under my feet.
Savage Wolf is available at ARe!
Jun 13, 2011 Filed under: BDSM, book release, erotica, paranormal, shapeshifter, werewolf
Protect and Serve: Savage Wolf is now available at ARe! I’m so excited about sharing this book with all the readers there. Here’s a little taste to whet your appetite….
Savage Wolf by Silvia Violet
I’m Wolf, Officer Aidan “Wolf” Savage. I’m a werewolf. But unlike most of my kind these days, I’m one of the good guys even if I do scare the hell out of most people the first time they meet me. When a white-tailed deer shifter comes leaping into my life, she makes my body hotter than an erupting volcano. She’s on the run, and she doesn’t want my help. But I’m not about to let her get herself killed, and I’ll use any means necessary to keep her safe.
Excerpt:
I tried to make myself be a gentlemen and roll off my naked little shifter. But werewolves aren’t gentlemen. I heard her racing heart and smelled the hot cream between her legs, and my wolfish side begged me to shove her legs up onto her chest and bury my cock in her pussy. Then she shocked me by opening her legs and inviting me in. How could a man say no?
And, by all that’s holy, she said those four words that just about made me lose it before I’d even gotten inside. “I like it rough.” Just what an alpha wolf like me needs. A woman who appreciates my appetite.
When I drive into her, holding nothing back, she cries out. Her pussy holds me tight. I fight to hold still and let her adjust to my size. But she wraps her legs around my hips and bucks against me.
“More,” she begs, and I’m not about to deny her. I slide out nearly all the way. She whimpers.
I thrust back in, and she groans, “Yes.” After that I ride her hard and fast. She meets every stroke, slamming her hips against mine. I fuck her with brutal strength, and she keeps crying for more. I’m in heaven.
Her gorgeous breasts bounce up and down in rhythm with my thrusts. I can’t wait another second to get better acquainted with them.
I shift my weight to one arm, and use the other hand to cup the tantalizing flesh, which is as soft and smooth as it looks. I slide my thumb back and forth over her tightly puckered nipple, and I’m rewarded with a sharp cry.
I keep up the light, teasing strokes. She arches toward my hand, whimpering. I pinch and tug on the pink bud. She bucks so hard she nearly unseats me. “Yes, God, yes!” she cries.
I need one of those sensitive nipples in my mouth like I need to breathe. I grab her hips, holding her firmly on my cock as I sit back on my heels. She lets her torn dress and bra slide from her arms. Then she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls herself up until she’s seated in my lap. Now I can lick and suck and bite those hard buds all I want while driving myself even deeper inside her tight, wet cunt.
As if she can read my mind, my doe pulls my head down to her breast. I draw a pink tip into my mouth and suck hard, letting my teeth sink in just enough for her to feel them. She cries out, digging her hands into my scalp. “Harder, oh God, harder. I . . .”
I glance up without letting go of her nipple, desperate to know what she wants to say. Her deep brown eyes are wide and filled with need. “I like it to hurt.”
I nearly choke around the hard flesh in my mouth. Have I died and gone to werewolf heaven? I bitehard enough to make her scream. She writhes against me. Before she’s recovered, I give her other nipple a vicious pinch.
