No Stranger to Danger ~ teaser excerpt

Mara rested her chin on her knees where she sat in the leather U-shaped seat by the window in the master bedroom. Logan was below in the yard, walking the perimeter. He stopped to listen every few minutes and had stayed away since he had left the bedroom, she suspected more so because he regretted what they'd shared.

She didn’t regret it. She was an adult, too, and she could have stopped him had she wanted him to stop. It hurt that he regretted what they had done so soon though.

Sex with Logan brought on a menacing horde of feelings she would rather have ignored, and had not expected. Not entirely. When she had gotten the surprise of her life a mere week ago, she had thought all feelings for Logan far behind her, too deeply buried to ever resurface. She'd managed to trick herself into believing she'd forgotten about him for years, and all it had taken was one look to make her remember the hurt. One kiss to make her remember his love. The passion they had shared, raw and hard, deep and endless. Well, she had once thought it endless.

Maybe it was.

Mara shut her eyes hard and bit her lip. She breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth.

And then, her eyes flared open and she growled. That shit never worked to calm her down. She raked a hand through her hair and mentally shook herself. What Logan had done to her earlier still ravaged her senses.

Although she'd found release, she wanted more. She wanted him, and she never wanted him to leave her again.

Her stare followed him as he looked over the drop, into the ravine where they had hidden the body away.

The Tennessee mountains were dark and gray, swaths of wispy clouds wrapping between peaks in the distance. A low rumble shook the heavens, and Logan looked over his shoulder in the direction of the storm closing in. Mara leaned back from the window, waiting a moment so he wouldn’t see her. She peeked back and found him staring up at the clouds. A moment later, he walked on, out of sight.

She relaxed a little and looked out over the trees, watching a black-faced chickadee sitting high up in a pine that grew off the side of the cliff as the little bird ruffled out and fluffed his feathers. A gentle peck began to hit the window, one after another as the mist became a drizzle and the drizzle became a steady rain.

Thunder rattled the window, and Mara shivered, turning her stare up to the dark ceiling. The door downstairs opened and closed, and Mara heard Logan place his door alarm.

She pulled herself from the seat. Why was she nervous suddenly? As if she hadn’t once been married to the man she had just had sex with? Like they hadn't ground their bodies together and fucked like animals before.

Mara turned from the window and slowly made her way downstairs, and though she tried to look completely at ease, when their stares locked, it was everything but ease between them.

Tension and passion.

Hurt and fear.

Mara closed the space between them, brushed the short wisps of hair from Logan's eyes before she came up on her toes, and kissed him lightly.

"We don’t have to figure it all out now," she said.

He growled at her, and Logan wrapped his arms around her, his lips sinking into hers for a deeper kiss—

The clanking of the little alarm and a loud squawking voice tore them apart. Logan whipped in front of her and lifted his sidearm at the door.

©2014 Kerri M. Patterson

Expectations...

As an author, I just want to say, I won't meet every readers expectations. . .but in my book that's okay. We won't all like to read the same thing or connect with the same characters. I've read books I didn't like after chapter one, but that is my opinion and I'm only one reader. I realize that.

Why am I saying all this? I've read several reviews on my books on a number of different sites and a few of them were more painful to read than others. However, I want to clear a few things up so readers CAN know what NOT to expect from my writing. I believe the graphic below will explain fair enough.

Looking for a tumultuous Highland Romance?

There is more than meets the eye in this fiery Highland tale, a story of clashing clans and a dubious father and son. Treachery runs deep and passion ignites in Bound to a Highlander after the daughter of a Laird is first married to her enemy ~ and on the same night accused of his murder.

“Are you sure you can identify this?” Gabhran asked the hag as he followed her further into her old hut.

Deep in the most secluded part of the wood, Morhath lived alone on the edge of McBray land. The hag was the only person Gabhran could think of who might be able to identify what he had found in Gorath’s room without any impartiality.

The entirety of the McBray clan had unanimously set themselves against Rosin, so he needed an outside opinion in all fairness, one of honesty so he could consciously, if he were right, rid himself of his unwanted handfast-wife by this coming eve, to begin her punishment.

“Nothing in this life is certain, lad,” the old woman crooned in an ancient, cryptic voice.

Gabhran rolled his eyes in exasperation. He had spent the remainder of a miserable and achingly sad night searching through Gorath’s belongings until he found this bottle in a most unusual location. Too suspicious to ignore considering the missive along with it.

He had weakened hours before from sadness and outrage, but out of love for his brother, he kept himself going. He would not rest until this matter had been resolved.

Resolved?

Nay, such a loss could never be resolved unless Morhath could use her potions and incantations to bring Gorath’s life back.

He would see the murderous vixen punished for her crime. As he’d told her, death would be too generous. He’d not suggested the union without purpose. It was better for him to keep her under his hand until she could be proven guilty, but if she wasn’t . . . then he would truly have to worry.

Morhath grumbled and he watched as she ambled to the firelight. Old, bony fingers skimmed down the side of the bottle and she turned the leather-cased phial over in her hand. “I’ve seen this potion bottle before. In a vision,” her aged voice rasped.

Gabhran started to yank the satchel and its contents back from the old hag right then, feeling like a fool for coming here as she spoke of visions. He wasn’t superstitious in the least, and cared not for prophecy or spells. He didn’t believe in the like, but so long as this potion of whatever making was physical, his cause for being here would be explainable to a degree.

All he wished for was proof. And, admittedly, he didn’t know where else to go to find such a thing. He desperately hung on to any hope of impartiality for Gorath’s sake. He had given his word to protect the woman, but his obligations stopped there.

“In the vision you had of my brother?” he questioned in a grumble, unable to keep his cynicism to himself.

Morhath’s eyes glided up, one green and the other brown. The eyes of a witch.

Gabhran returned her scowl.

Morhath tsked. “I told him not to tell anyone of what I saw, but he didn’t listen, did he?” she mumbled, almost to herself and began to open the small bottle to smell the contents. Twitching her nose, she looked in the mouth of the bottle quizzically for a moment, then set it aside on a table where runes were scattered.

When she settled herself in a fur covered ladder-back seat and began to lift the pieces of witchery, placing them in a doeskin bag to shake, she closed her eyes and chanted.

Gabhran shifted uneasily. “Can you identify the concoction, old woman?” he asked tersely.

Morhath gave him another bothered expression, but continued on wordlessly. She scattered the runes and stared long and hard on their chiseled and painted symbols.

After several moments lapsed, impatient and irritated, Gabhran stuck out his hand to swipe up what he had brought for her to see, ready to take his leave.

He’d been an addled fool to come here, even as a last recourse.

If she couldn’t tell him now, he would be gone.

Morhath’s hand lurched out to catch his. Her brittle, jagged nails dug into his arm as she cut her eyes up where he towered over her. “‘Tis a poison indeed.” Gabhran stiffened and tried to pull away, fire in his eyes, assured now he had been right, but Morhath stopped him again. “T’was not your woman though.”

“What?” Gabhran sneered, then just as quickly shook his head and snapped, “She is not my woman and never will be.”

Morhath lifted her shoulder in smug satisfaction. “So you say now,” she said, and indicated the bottle with her eyes. “There is nothing missing from that bottle. Even if it were but a drop, there is not enough gone to have killed a man.” She scoffed with all conviction. “Surely not a goliath as Gorath.”

Gabhran glared icily at the hag before relaxing somewhat and only then did she release him, nestling back into her chair and pulling at the fur to wrap about herself.

Gabhran’s jaw worked as he looked to the side, far beyond the interior of the hut, in hopes of calming himself to a rational degree. Trying to determine if he should believe the word of this witch, or his own convictions.

But then, if not to believe her, why had he come here? Had he only been hoping for someone to confirm his believes? Any number of his people could have done that at the keep.

Nay, he must go by Morhath’s word.

Yet, if not the McPherson woman, then who had killed his brother?

Gabhran took back the vial, near crushing it in his hand as he started for the door.

“Tread lightly, Highlander. You do not belong in my hut for you do not believe in my spells, witchery, or magic. So the runes tell me little”¾she held up a finger¾“though there is some puzzlement to the stones which I can read.” She rubbed at her temple and then shook her head. “Look hard enough and you will find the answers you seek and when you can open your eyes to see past your fury, only then will you ken the truth of your brother’s death.”

©2013 Kerri M. Patterson

A Heart of Fire teaser

Veil of Scars - by J.R. Gray Available Now!

Hi Everyone!

I have fellow author J.R. Gray sharing her new release with us today!

Veil of Scars Coming April 21st from Evernight publishing

A little bit about Veil of Scars:

Steven is tall, dark and damaged. He doesn't let anyone close, comfortable on the outside of normal life where he can hide his scars behind a wall so high that nothing gets through…except them. Despite a childhood marred with black and blue, he's survived and moved in with his two best friends, Sam and Charlie.

Life should get better, but it was Sam who held him when the dark threatened to swallow him whole, Sam who gave him a place that felt like home, and Sam who knew every scar and every broken place.

And it's all been taken away with Charlie sharing Sam's bed.

Without his former confront, Steven realizes what's been hiding in the deep corners of his heart, and the truth sinks him like a weight. He’s in love with one or maybe both of his roommates. Navigating unrequited love tears Steven apart and brings him to the precipice, and he has to choose: his feelings or Sam’s…and Charlie’s?

Buy it from Evernight

Amazon

Amazon UK

Here is a sneak peek from Veil of Scars:

"Charlie coming home from the party, too?" I didn't dare to hope.

“She didn’t go. She’s pulling an all-nighter in the library with a group for a project or something or other." He shrugged.

Maybe I would get a stolen night. One like old times.

We sat there for a while in silence, not quite wrapped up in one another but taking comfort from the other's body heat. I closed my eyes. Even on the sofa a night in his arms was bliss.

"Want to go to bed?" Sam asked, rousing me from the light sleep I had slipped into.

“Yeah, sorry." I got to my feet, cheeks flushing a bit, realizing I’d just fallen into something that wasn’t a reality anymore. In seven months there had been a few stolen nights with my best friend, but living with Charlie had put a stop to how we once were.

His brows fell, and he looked up at me before getting to his feet. I was turning to head to my room when he grabbed me by the hand, lacing his fingers through mine. I stopped, looking up to search his face.

He didn't say a word as he led me to the bed he shared with her. I couldn't help the smile that spread over my lips. The dark gave me the cover I needed to watch him pull the polo off his broad shoulders and cast it aside. I kicked out of my jeans and added my shirt to his on the floor, before crawling into bed.

The assured way he scooted in after me, coming up from behind to wrap his arms around my body, gave me a pain in the middle of my chest I couldn’t explain. I leaned back into his bare skin, and a calm washed over me. Within moments, it was like the nervous bundle of energy that had been wound inside me for months started to dissolve.

He tucked his head in next to my shoulder and whispered, “Goodnight," against my skin.

About J.R. Gray

When not staying up all night writing, J.R Gray can be found basking in the warm glow of the Miami sun, or at the gym where it's half assumed Gray is a permanent resident. A dominant, pilot, and sword fighting enthusiast, Gray finds it hard to be in the passenger seat of any car. Gray frequently interrupts real life, including normal sleep patterns, to jot down nonsense. The bane of Gray's existence are commas, and even though it's been fully acknowledged they are necessary, they continue to baffle and bewilder.

If Gray wasn't writing...well, that's not possible. The build up of untold stories would haunt Gray into an early grave or possibly a mental institution where the tales would end up on the walls in crayon and finger paint.

Find J.R. Gray online:

My Blog / Facebook

Twitter / Twitter Book only news.

Tumblr / Tumblr (NSFW)

Other books by J.R. Gray

Legally Bound - UK - All Romance eBooks

Breach of Contract  - UK - All Romance eBooks

Illicit Activity - Evernight

Non imbedded links.

http://www.amazon.com/Veil-Scars-J-R-Gray-ebook/dp/B00VYWQGFG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1428933141&sr=8-1&keywords=veil+of+scars

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/veil-of-scars-by-j-r-gray

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Veil-Scars-J-R-Gray-ebook/dp/B00VYWQGFG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1428933276&sr=8-2&keywords=veil+of+scars

JRGrayBooks.com

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theoriginalgray.tumblr.com (NSFW)

Chapter One #teaser from #backlist title The Pursuit for Love

Chapter One

Eight years later

         "You’re leaving me?" Anna asked again, breathlessly. She found herself unable to accept that the last of her eight very suitable suitors had just ended their secret courtship.

The earl and she were well ensconced behind a little grove of trees in Hyde Park, the most obscure place they could find. This was usual with all her secret suitors—as Millie had dubbed them—for their meetings had to be restricted to the less trafficked areas when she was to be alone with any one of them. Early as the day was, there would likely be no one of social standing to witness this rather humiliating encounter.

         When this Season had come into full swing, she’d taken on the notion that this would be the year she broke the confining chains of her engagement to a man who had disappeared—and probably led a very comfortable life with his own family by now—while she suffered every day, forced to remain alone. The man might as well be dead and buried for all the good he did her or anyone in England.

         For all she knew he really could be dead.

         Her conscience prickled her. Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. Unless he’d met with the fate he well deserved since last her contact had sent news, then unfortunately Westforth was still alive and in good health. Blast him! Anna chided herself for wishing anyone’s death, even his.

There were easier ways to be done with such straining ties to the man, and her plan couldn’t have been simpler—or so she’d thought.

         With Millie’s help she had handpicked eight men. They not only had to be rich, but heavily titled as well—something that would surely turn her father’s head to reason if only given the chance—though he had forbidden her to try anything of the like.

         Actually, she risked much by what she had been doing these past months, personal scandal being at the top of the list, quickly followed by the threat of being sent to the country for the Season.

Those fears were neither here nor there now, as within three months all her suitors had deserted her.

         "But . . . why?" she asked him, pouting.

         "I—I’m sorry, Anna. You are a very sweet girl, but . . . ." The young earl fumbled with his hat, looking around nervously. "This meeting privately and in secret is very thrilling, but not at all seemly. If I could court you openly, then perhaps . . . ." He broke off, looking altogether uneasy. "Lady Cullington is available, and . . . I am deeply sorry, Anna. Really, I wish this could have gone a better way between us. Everyone knows you are practically married already anyway. What could have come of our courtship, if you could even call this a courtship? We both risked scandal had anyone found out."

         Anna harrumphed inwardly at his mumbling, a sour expression she simply couldn’t hide at the mention of her engagement instantly turning her fabricated sunny smile into a downright scowl.

         "My father might have come ‘round and changed his mind had a better future son-in-law been presented," she offered stiffly. If the man could be this rigid and laced tightly with propriety then she didn’t need or want him, so Anna tried to tell herself. It wasn’t as though she met him in secret to fornicate or any such thing. Heavens no! She’d gone twenty years without so much as a decent kiss, so she could manage a little longer. That he dare act as though they had done anything really scandalous insulted her through and through.

         "Might have," he noted softly, but with distinct emphasis.

         Sighing heavily, Anna squared her shoulders and shook her head, a billowy white-tipped feather in her riding cap swaying wildly as she did so. She made a point to look downhearted. "I was so hoping you wouldn’t buckle as the others did," she told him, pushing from her mind all thoughts of Dallon Langston and how frustrated the blackguard made her, especially at this moment.

         "Others?" the earl asked with a hint of surprise.

         "Yes, my other secret suitors. You didn’t think you were the only one, did you?" she asked sweetly, and then laughed gaily at his surprise.

         Taking a turn at being insulted now, the earl turned a distinct shade of red and reached for the reins to his mount. "I had no idea, really. Good day, Lady St. Claire."

         "Good day to you too, James." She threw in his given name simply to remind him she too could dangle their very personal encounters over his head if he were to ever think to use them against her. Not that she really thought he had the gall or intention. But one could never be too careful.

The sun swelled behind her on the early morning horizon, lifting a blanket of mist from the ground so the glistening veil rested higher above the park grounds now. The green, dew-drenched grass had been neatly trimmed where she stood. Since winter’s retreat, early spring blossomed new life all around.

         New love as well.

         Most days she caught herself watching all the happy new couples walking hand in hand, laughing and staring into one another’s eyes. The torment made her predicament especially hard, and until Lord Westforth had been dealt with, she could have none of those tender moments.

         A sudden despair followed on the heel of her anger towards her intended, and her heart broke all over again for the blissful life she was being denied on his account.

         Stark rays of sunlight limned the earl as he rode away. Anna sighed again, forlornly this time. How the duce would she ever end her debacle now? She’d thought her idea would be an instant success.

         A gem? Isn’t that what others called her? She laughed inwardly at the terrible crux she had. She was a gem in society. ‘The cream of the crop,’ she had been called, causing her many a blush within the last few years. She socialized in all the highest circles, yet because of her missing betrothed, she was also—and ultimately—the most unavailable debutante not on the market when she should be.

         Because of the marriage contract, she hadn’t been allowed her coming out Season, hadn’t been allowed suitors—and she certainly wouldn’t be permitted back to London again if her father ever found out the ruse she employed in order to dissolve her wagered engagement.

         After eight years of Lord Abington and her father publicly blustering at one another over their farfetched wager, the entirety of London—from those seated high in parliament to the lowest innkeeper’s daughter—no doubt knew her plight.

         Her father had lost at that fateful hand of cards, and her life had been absolutely miserable since hiding in the secret closet—a place she’d not visited once since.

         When the time had come, Westforth’s honor had paled in comparison to her own, something his father had sworn would never happen—his words forever a whisper in her memory.

         His family hadn’t received so much as a letter, nor did any rumors spread of his whereabouts elsewhere in England. How she wished she could have run as well, but she’d still been in the schoolroom when the contract had been signed.

         The earl had been correct; in her father’s eyes and Abington’s, she was as good as married. To a ghost.

         Even if Lord Abington would grudgingly admit on occasion that she had turned out better than he had ever imagined she could, he still vehemently insisted with an absurd hope that his son would honor his wishes and come back someday to uphold his duty.

         Thus, her quandary remained unchanged. She would still be stuck in her predicament tomorrow, same as she was today. Though her burden weighed much heavier now.

         Her betrothed would never return. She’d seen the look in those frightening gold eyes, eyes she dreamed of almost nightly, as though they were seared into her mind.

         Well, Abington could swear by whatever he wished, but she intended to stick to her plan. She would be rid of her horrid, absent betrothed by the year’s end.

         One way or another.

         With a tsk Anna took up her mount’s reins and led her mare to a nearby bench, using the added height to help mount since she’d snuck out without so much as a groom.

         All she need do was put together a list of more suitors.

         Mayhap she could catch a duke’s eye, then her father would be forced to find a way to end the contract. A duke would certainly hold enough influence to negate Abington’s petty contract.

         Yes, that would work perfectly.

©2012 Kerri M. Patterson

Buy Here:

Go get lost in a fictional world!

And...

Happy Hump Day

Time to start picking out that good read for the weekend. So, what are you reading?

The seduction of Katia Dobre

Hi there!

Today I'm sharing another scene from my backlist title Under the Harvest Moon - Castle de Sânge. Did I mention I really liked working on this book? :) I think you will enjoy this scene where Katia, a woman chosen by a vampire prince for one night of pleasure, loses her virginity - and the unsuspecting prince loses his control.

XOXO-

Kerri

Under the Harvest Moon

Castle de Sânge

Katia Dobre cried out as the chained cuff enclosed her wrist. She kicked out at Serle. "What are you doing to me?" she screamed.

Serle backed away. "You must be quieter. The prince does not like the women to fight him. If you do not stop this, I will have to drug you again and he will like that even less."

Vasili watched from the shadows across the room. Though Serle spoke in a hushed whisper, he could still hear him. Firelight from the massive hearth centered on one wall flickered over Katia, but excluded the corner where he sat by his bed from any illumination.

He'd left for home immediately after making his choice, going on foot as he moved much, much faster than Serle or any human. He had left the carriage for his man to bring Katia in. He found it easier on himself if he were not there when Serle used the potion to render the woman of his choice unconscious to bring them here. This time, Serle's potion had not worked quite as well. Katia had woken as the first cuff closed around her wrist and quickly came to her feet to fend off the man.

"That will be all, Serle," Vasili said. Katia's pulse leapt in response to his voice, he heard it, and Vasili closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. He had every assurance he had made the right choice in that moment. It was rare he ever needed to chain or bind a woman anymore, but he instinctually knew with Katia it would be everything necessary. He usually found his women quite willing after a few touches.

Katia was different.

She intrigued him.

She would be a challenge.

As Serle left the room, Katia jerked on the chains, rattling them. "I know it is you, Prince Vasili," she called across the chamber. She stopped her futile efforts and glared in his direction. "You are a much worse monster than I first thought!"

Vasili chuckled, raking her body with his dark stare. He fingered his chin as he watched her. Her breasts heaved in her anger. He found it odd that she was angrier with him more than she was afraid. They were always afraid at first, until he showed them he would not harm them.

His intrigue for her stirred his passion and Vasili felt himself begin to swell. As Katia was not afraid of him, perhaps this might allow him to go further with her than he usually did the others.

Vasili gained his feet and was at her back in an instant, his lips on her neck. Katia jumped, gasping.

"How did you do that?" she asked, trying to face him. The chains held her in place, affixed to two walls at the corner of the room.

"I possess certain strengths most men do not, Katia."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Vasili trailed the top of her bare shoulder with the pad of his thumb up to her ear and back down. She flinched from him, watching him intently. "All in good time," he said low, near her ear.

"Stop that," she said.

He smiled, looking down her back at those pearl buttons that had so bothered him with their presence before. Her blood rushed, her skin a little hotter with his nearness.

"I do not intend to stop." Vasili dipped his head to the crook of her neck and nipped her with his teeth. He drew back sucking in a hissed breath, his fangs protruding at the taste of her. He stayed well behind Katia where she could not see as he fought back his desires, tamping them down into submission.

That was the first thing he had taught himself: To own the beast driving him from within. He might be a monster, but he would never let the beast control him.

He took blood only when he wanted to take it.

It was the only way.

Vasili reached into Katia's hair and removed a single pin. He stepped closer, inhaling her. She intoxicated him.

"Prince Vasili, what do you mean to do to me?" she asked quietly.

He stopped. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You . . ." A pinch of hysteria entered her tone. "You mean to rape me?"

Now it was his turn to scoff at her. Upon reflection, he had not liked being scoffed at earlier. "No," he said flatly, and began to circle around to her front. He stood back just a step, so she might see him clearly. She still met his stare, not cowed in the least.

Vasili reached for her pert chin at lifted it. "By the time I take you, you will be very much compliant."

She arched a brow at him. "So sure of yourself, aren’t you?" She scoffed, jerking from his grip and looking across the room.

Vasili's pleasure fell a notch. "Do not make that sound again," he said.

Her wide stare returned to his and she scoffed once more. "What? That sound?"

His jaw set in a hard line and he tilted her chin up again. "That sound."

"I do not understand why you chose me for this. Why not my sister? She is prettier and she would have fallen into your hands like clay. Tamara would have let you cast her whichever way you wanted." Katia paused. "Not that I would wish this on her. It is just that she is the more preferable when it comes to the attention of gentlemen."

Vasili chuckled. "I assure you, the choices of those men are not based on your beauty. It is your sharp tongue that deters them. You nearly had me fooled, too, but I did not wish to have someone so easy to be had. Not tonight."

She arched a brow again. "Then I am not the first to be brought here?"

Vasili snorted at that. "Certainly not."

She regarded him with fury.

Vasili stepped in again, cupping her cheek. He rubbed his thumb alongside her face. "It is not my wish to break you. I admire your spirit. It is what drew me to you. I wanted to know what exists beneath the façade you wear. You wish to learn? Let me educate you on the passion there is to be had between a man and a woman."

She tried to pull back. "I do not wish to be your whore."

"I will not make you my whore," he said, reaching for her hair.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him pull another pin from her head, the strand it had held cascading down to dangle over her breast and Vasili casually tossed the pin over his shoulder, his stare traveling down the lock, to her breasts, and back up.

She gaped, staring after the pin, but he tilted her chin with a finger, returning her attention to him. When he was satisfied that her concentration was again on him, Vasili slowly circled her, returning to her back. He kissed her neck tenderly and reached around to fill his hand with her breast. He gave her a squeeze and Katia gasped. In the faintest bit, her neck rolled to the side for him and Vasili chuckled darkly. Her skin fevered under his touch.

As much as Katia might like to deny him, her body betrayed her.

Desire thrummed through her, coursing in her veins.

Katia might not be so hard to tame as he thought. Her blood pulsed hard, and what thrilled him more, it was all from his touch. He would show her pleasure she had never dreamed of before.

Vasili pulled the last pin from her hair and wound his fingers in her tresses, pulling her head back. He sealed his lips over hers then, kissing her hard. "I want you, Katia. I will have you," he said against her lips.

"No," she whispered back.

Vasili dipped under her arm, returning to her front. He stooped to pull a small dagger from his boot, causing Katia to shrink back as much as the chains would allow. He came forward and pulled her into him with one arm and with the knife in his other hand, drew it up her back. The sound of the pearls clanking to the stone floor filled the massive room.

Katia gaped at him in horror, but Vasili smiled down on her triumphantly and made quick work of removing the rest of her bodice.

"You are an animal," she spat.

"You have no idea," he murmured, taking the top of her skirts in hand and ripping them down the middle.

Katia shrieked, looking down on herself in her silk shift. They both knew there was little else beneath. Vasili tossed his dagger behind him where it embedded into the wall with a thunk.

Katia looked over his shoulder at it and then back to him.

"How did you rip through all that material?" Katia looked down at the pile around her feet. So absent was her voice, it was almost as though she had not known she'd spoken.

"I told you, I have strengths other men do not possess."

Her stare returned to him. "What are you?" she asked. Vasili circled her again, kicking the torn clothing out of his path. "I told you I have read our histories. Tell me you are not what I think you are."

"I am not what you think I am." Vasili drew his fingers around her slender waist. He sucked in a hissed breath at the feel of the curls at the juncture of her legs, beneath the shift. In a burst of need, he rent the sleeve on one side and tasted her skin there, and inhumanly quickly, he did the same at the other side. He was back in front of her before Katia could blink. Vasili pushed the garment down, exposing her breasts and the rest of her body fully. He delighted in seeing her as the shift slunk to the floor around her feet. Her white stockings were tied up with green ribbons matching the gown she had worn.

Vasili's breathing came sharply as he looked upon her. The soft petals of her sex were slightly swollen from his touch and he could smell her desire. Katia trembled under his hot stare. He had managed what she had thought he couldn’t.

His stare remained on her as he removed his shirt and tossed it aside and then quickly parted with the rest of his clothing until he was just as bare as she. He started to remove her stockings too, but decided he liked them just as they were. The bows at the tops of her thighs made her look all the more enticing.

Vasili slowly stroked himself as he approached her. Her eyes fell to him and she watched the erotic movement of his hand, swallowing hard. Her stare excited him in a way he couldn’t remember having been in a very long time.

Vasili reached for her and pulled her hair back until he forced her to look up at him. His cock pressed into her belly as he pulled her body flush to his. Katia whimpered. "Do you desire me, Katia?" He reached up, fingering her lower lip and then trailed his fingers down over her collarbone and to her pert breast. Her nipple stood erect against his fingers and he pinched one before dipping his head to close his teeth around the bud, gently pulling her nipple taut and then latching his lips around her.

As Vasili sucked, he wanted to sink his fangs into her so badly.

Hearing no answer, he lifted his head. "You won't tell me? Shall I find out for myself?"

She drew in sharp breath. Vasili's fingers traveled over the plane of her stomach and paused in the soft curls. He claimed her mouth with his and dipped his fingers lower. He found what he already knew. He could smell the sweetness of her as she'd become wet for him, but he hadn’t known just how wet.

Katia cried out as he pressed his finger into her and swirled it around.

Vasili growled, dropping his hold on her, and bent to his knees. He roughly took her thighs in his hands and forced her legs apart where she stood. He dipped his head to taste her, shuttering at her wetness on his mouth. His tongue darted into her folds and Vasili gripped her thighs tighter to keep her in place as she squirmed and bucked against him.

He growled again against her tender skin, parting her with his thumbs and flicking his tongue against her most sensitive area. Her cries echoed around them as he sucked on her flesh and her body trembled as she came against his tongue. Vasili stood then, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth and he lifted her, wrapping her legs about him as he did so. Katia stared down at him in speechless wonder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and then Vasili lifted her higher, positioning her, and quickly sheathed himself with her body, ripping through the thin barrier of her virginity.

She cried out again and Vasili hung on to his senses with all he had, only an unraveling thread left between him and the beast. Katia felt so good, so tight.

He gave her a moment to adjust to his size before he began to move again. He lifted her up and down on him, thrusting against her hard until he cried out, too. Vasili dipped his head to her neck, sinking his fangs into her, thrusting in her again as the hot spurts of his desire left him.

Vasili drank until his need abated.

When he was done, he removed himself from her and Katia slipped down his body. She was barely conscious.

Vasili cupped her face in one hand, connecting their stares. "You will remember nothing, Katia. The last you saw me, we were dancing." All her memories from the night were gone in that instant and Katia blinked once before slipping into a state of oblivion.

He easily ripped the chains from the walls and left them to drag behind as he took her to his giant bed with massively carved posts at each corner. Katia was limp in his arms like a wilted flower.

He laid her down and then broke the cuffs from her wrists and tossed them aside. He watched her a moment. Usually he didn’t care if Serle saw the women he used after he was done with them, but the beauty of Katia's body stirred him and the small bit of conscience he retained pricked at him.

He went to the corner to pick up her shift, tying the frayed sleeves as he walked back to the bed and gently clothed her. He finished by tucking her in.

Vasili cast one last look at the woman lying peacefully in his bed as he left the room to wash.

For the first time in two hundred years, he wasn't entirely sure he was done with this one.

©2013 Kerri M. Patterson