Hi, Everyone! Welcome to Obsidian Flame Chapter One, featuring the entire first chapter of this acclaimed novel. Obsidian flame is the fifth book of my Guardians of Ascension series featuring winged warrior vampires in a world of ascending dimensional earths.
Here’s a brief look at OBSIDIAN FLAME.
For More information and Buy Links: Go here! Note: This book is published by St. Martin’s Press. St. Martin’s Press sets the prices.
For a hundred years, Marguerite has been imprisoned and used for her powerful psychic abilities. Her only relief comes from her regular visits with Thorne, her vampire lover. His every touch leaves her hungry for more..and aching for their next encounter. When Marguerite is finally set free, she returns to Mortal Earth to begin a new life for herself. She dyes her hair white-blonde, paints her nails blood-red, and seduces a sexy-hot stranger. Why can’t she stop thinking about Thorne?
Now that Marguerite is gone, Thorne craves her more than ever..and follows her to Mortal Earth. Unfortunately, he is not the only vampire who wants her. As one of three powerful women with obsidian flame abilities, Marguerite is a valuable treasure—and a dangerous weapon. For Thorne, she is a soulmate he must protect at any cost…even his own life.
There’s no place like home…
~ ~ ~
Who can change,
But the one ready for magnificence.
Collected Proverbs — Beatrice of Fourth
Thorne, out of ancient Britain in AD 11, stood outside a vile smelling dive, a real shithole, somewhere in El Paso One, Mortal Earth. He took deep breaths trying to calm the hell down so that he didn’t draw his sword, go back inside, and impale a beefy-looking mortal who was more innocent than guilty in this little flirtation drama.
He whipped his Droid Ascender from the pocket of his jeans, a sweet inter-dimensional piece of technology that allowed him to call home. He all but punched the screen. Shit, his hand trembled. He had so much adrenaline and testosterone flooding his system, that yeah, he was shaking like a drunk off a bender.
The phone rang several times.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up.”
Finally, Alison’s voice came on the line. “Sorry. Had to get out of Endelle’s office before I answered.”
“Okay, good.” In the past three weeks since he’d left Second Earth, he’d grown dependent on Alison for a couple of reasons. She helped him keep his head screwed on straight and she kept him informed on that little detail called the war against commander Greaves.
He was about to launch into his current dilemma, as in what to do about his woman who was making moves on another man, when Alison cut him off. “Thorne, there’s something you’ve got to know right away, and it’s bad.”
His body stilled. Alison wasn’t given to drama of any kind. From the day of her ascension over a year ago, she’d been an equalizing force among the Warriors of the Blood and especially with Endelle, serving as she did as the scorpion queen’s executive assistant.
His hearing became focused, laser-like, on exactly what Alison would say next. He took another deep breath. “Let me have it.”
“It’s been all over the news for the past hour. In three days, Greaves is conducting a spectacle-grade military review that will last four, maybe six hours. Rumors are that he’s marching an army of two hundred thousand troops, his ‘Ascender Liberation Army’, down the Moscow Two avenue, the one that forms an arc in front of that newly constructed stone edifice. Do you remember I told you about that a couple of days ago? It’s the one that’s been worrying Marcus for the last three weeks.” Marcus split his time between battling at the Borderlands with the rest of the Warriors of the Blood, and serving in an administrative capacity at Endelle’s HQ.
Thorne’s lips parted because he needed to keep breathing but he wasn’t sure his lungs were working at all.
Greaves had just upped the stakes at the same moment that Thorne had gone AWOL to chase after a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.
“Are you there?” Alison asked.
“Thorne, did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. Processing. Shit.” He shook his head but like Alison could see that. “This is a completely illegal maneuver. COPASS can’t let this slide, not this time. ‘No entity shall engage in a public display of military prowess’. The rules are clear.”
“Marcus has been on the phone non-stop to the international COPASS HQ in Prague. Every answer he’s been given goes something like, the committee has the Commander’s request for permits under review. But we all know what that means.”
“Exactly. I hate to ask this, but can you come home? This news has got all of the High Administrators still aligned with Endelle jumpy. Three shifted their alliance to Greaves just because of the announcement. Three.”
He turned back to face the run-down building that blared some lively Mexican music; trumpets, guitars, and a quick beat.
Marguerite, his woman, his vampire bond-mate, was in there, getting one huge motherfucker of a Mexican all worked up with her long, blood-red nails and short platinum hair.
He’d followed her to Mortal Earth because he’d had no choice in the matter. Much to his surprise the goddamn breh-hedden had hit him flush in the jaw and torn all his good sense from its usual strong footings. All the warriors had thought the breh-hedden was a myth, then Alison had shown up and knocked Kerrick on his ass, the one who had vowed never to marry again. Three other warriors had followed, like dominos; Marcus, Medichi, and just a few weeks ago, Jean-Pierre.
Now it was his turn.
And Greaves had decided this was the hour to let the world know that he’d built an army, worthy of victory, and was getting ready to launch his takeover bid of both Second Earth and Mortal Earth.
He turned again, to once more face away from the bar. He felt the call of his world, of Second Earth, and of something more, something vast that had begun pulsing in the center of his brain. He lived with two aches now, the heavy pounding in his head and the stiff pulsing in his groin.
He was a man torn, now more than ever, because of the implied threat of a spectacle-based military review. Damn, there’d be fireworks and massive orchestral music as well as hundreds of DNA altered swans and geese. Second Earth lived for spectacle and Greaves knew it. The damn thing was genius.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. Alison, thank God, had fallen silent, giving him space, the usual. She’d been a counselor before she ascended. She knew how to let a moment breathe.
Finally, he said, “I’m going to do everything I can to move things along here. But I can’t leave Marguerite right now and it isn’t just because of the breh-hedden. Because she’s obsidian flame, Greaves wants her dead. She’s unprotected if I just take off. You know Endelle was counting on her emerging power to make a difference in the war. At the very least, I need to bring her home with me.”
“You’re right,” Alison said, some of the tension leaving her voice. “I’d gotten so wrapped up in this review, I’d forgotten about Marguerite’s power. Don’t worry. I’ll talk it over with Marcus. He’ll understand. More than anyone, he’ll understand.” Marcus was four thousand years old and had only recently returned to Second Earth and to the Warriors of the Blood after a two-hundred year absence, his own form of desertion.
Yeah, if anyone would understand all the dilemmas facing Thorne, Marcus would.
Alison puffed a sigh into the phone. “On the other hand, Endelle won’t be nearly as rational but she’ll just have to deal with it.”
Endelle. Thorne so did not want to think about her. He’d been blocking their shared mind-link from the second he’d jumped into the Trough and headed to Phoenix One. She was pissed as hell that he’d left. Thorne had thought about contacting her at least a dozen times, but each time, that pulsing in his brain got stronger and some part of him got really mad, even though honestly, he wasn’t sure exactly why. But yeah, he was pissed.
“I’d better go,” he said.
“I almost forgot, what did you call for?”
“Nothing. I mean, I’ll work it out.” He laughed as he pushed a hand through his hair and all but dislodged his cadroen. “I may be calling you later. I’ve got a situation in El Paso Two.”
Alison’s voice dropped. “Oh, shit, Endelle just walked into my office. Gotta go.”
The line went dead.
A military spectacle review. Jesus H. Christ.
He returned his phone to his jeans. He lowered his chin and went back into the bar. He sure could use a drink right about now, but for this ride, he’d stopped with the Ketel One. Everything was coming to a head fast and he needed to see things just as they were, not through a vodka haze. But it sure didn’t help that Marguerite was flashing a smile at that goddamn, good-looking Mexican.
He drew his mist in tight. He was good at creating the preternatural disguise that kept him invisible to anyone around him, especially here on Mortal Earth. Anyone, of course, except Marguerite. She could see him even though she’d been ignoring him all night. By now she was used to his hovering presence since he’d been dogging her heels from the first night he’d touched down on Mortal Earth.
They’d argued plenty, but this was the worst she’d been, sitting as close as she was on a tall stool next to her current prey. It looked as though she’d made up her mind that tonight was the night.
He took up his former station, leaning against the wall, close to the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps flexed involuntarily. His nostrils flared. His breathing was still pretty uneven especially since, even at this distance, he could smell her rose scent, rich red roses. It was the one sure sign that this woman was meant for him.
Yet he had no real claim on Marguerite, even though they’d been lovers for over a century. She’d broken with him, needing to go her own way, but his brain just wasn’t getting the message. He was too hopped up on some kind of primordial caveman juice to really figure things out. So, here he was, his back pinned to a goddamn wall in a stinking bar and he couldn’t leave her alone, he couldn’t pull back, he couldn’t let her go.
He stared at the new Marguerite. She was as beautiful as ever, an almost perfectly oval face, strong arched brows, and large brown eyes, eyes he’d looked into ten thousand times while making love to her. She used to have really long straight brown hair that he would hold wrapped around his forearm when he would take her from behind. Now, she had short platinum blond hair, white blond, and blood-red fingernails about an inch long.
She sipped a very crimson cosmo, her current favorite drink, the same color as the lights flashing in his head. She had her elbow on the bar, her long nails flicking the feathered spikes and layers of her hair.
The bastard next to her had his left knee about a millimeter away from hers. His eyelids lazed low.
Shit. Thorne knew exactly what that look meant, that the only thought running through the bastard’s head would be just how soon he could get this woman on her back, or settled on his hips and riding him hard. He shuddered through a few more deep breaths.
He wasn’t entirely to blame. The breh-hedden had him hooked in deep, forcing him to look at Marguerite not just as a woman but as his mate, his fucking mate. His mind swirled with a variety of impulses that kept shouting things like use your fists and beat the shit out of that asshole or worse, use your sword and take the smile off his face permanently.
This particular mortal wasn’t half bad looking if you liked a scruff of a beard, a scar on the right cheek, thick black hair combed back straight, and tats on the neck, shoulders and forearms. He was big, too. Warrior big.
This was so not going to end well.
Even through the stench of beer, smoke, and male bodies, all he could really process was a light floral scent that kept his dick in an uproar, a sure sign that this woman was meant for him.
The bastard made his move. He reached out and grazed Marguerite’s elbow with the tips of two fingers, then moved away, a smooth quick testing of the waters.
Marguerite smiled. She leaned in toward him and reached out with her hand to stroke his bicep.
Stroke his bicep.
Stroke his bicep.
The red strobes in his head spun faster. His fists balled. Creator help him. His palm itched for his sword. He spread his fingers wide, ready to catch some steel.
For a split second, he almost completed the mental sequence that would have brought his sword into his hand. He saw the carnage as plain as day; one asshole with his head split wide, one woman caught up under his arm and hauled out of this hellhole kicking and screaming.
He was so close.
His fingers trembled.
He wanted his sword in his hand.
He wanted the bastard dead.
He didn’t so much as have the thought as he acted because in the next split second, he dematerialized out of the smoke and re-formed in the deep night shadows, well beyond the bar, well away from temptation. He bent over. He shook. He came within an inch of puking his guts out.
Shit. He’d almost killed an innocent man. Thorne, Warrior of the Blood, protector of the innocent, preserver of life, keeper of the peace, and he’d almost killed an innocent man. Creator help him.
So, here he was, almost losing the Buffalo wings he’d gorged on, tortured because his woman, who was not his woman, was pursuing her favorite hunting-sport: men.
There was only one real question to answer: how the hell was he supposed to keep from killing this man if she succeeded in taking him into her bed?
~ ~ ~
Marguerite Dresner’s fingertips tingled as she played over the tatted barbed wire on the stranger’s bare, thick, muscled bicep. Her quarry’s smell rose up around her. He wore a heavy cologne, heavy like his muscles, like the male scent she was getting from him. She flared her nostrils and sucked in more of what he was giving.
Unfortunately, another scent crowded the space.
Dammit, cherry tobacco. Again. For the thousandth time.
Despite the fact that she knew the real source, she asked, “Do you smoke a pipe?”
He shook his head leaning into her a little. “Nope. I’m a cigar man. You like cigars?” She liked the shape well enough. Who didn’t? But she didn’t care for the aroma. She did like pipe tobacco, though, which was one reason the cherry aroma bugged the shit out of her.
“Now why are you frowning?” he asked. “What’s made you unhappy?” He had a slight accent and a deep voice, fitting for all that body he carried around. Her gaze fell in a freefall to his snug jeans. This man knew how to display and when his knee shifted just a little, the bulge moved.
She felt lightheaded. She had waited so long for this, to explore the world again, to cruise the Mortal Earth bars and know a lot of men.
Men different from the only one she’d known for the past century.
Aw, shit, why did she have to think of Thorne right now. He hadn’t wanted her to leave Second Earth, but she’d left anyway. She’d had to leave. She had a life to live and men to devour. One hundred years in that god-forsaken Convent, the one with canings, and strappings, and beatings, had left her needing so much more of life than what Second Earth could offer right now.
Why couldn’t Thorne get that? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
She saw from her peripheral vision that he was done with holding up the wall. Huh, so maybe he’d finally taken the hint. He’d glowered and looked so hot in jeans and a wife-beater shirt that it was all she could do to keep from going over there and attacking him.
But she needed him to get the message. She couldn’t go back to him and she sure as hell couldn’t go back to Second Earth. As much as she knew this would kill him, she’d been putting off the inevitable for three weeks now. She’d spent some time getting her bearings, learning to drive, then driving through state after state then back again. It was late March and most of the lower states were a piece of heaven.
But tonight she was crossing over, ending her connection to the past. She was beginning the real adventure, the fantasy that had kept her sane during her hundred years in that god-forsaken Creators Convent.
She forced memories of Thorne down deep.
She lifted her gaze to the dark brown eyes in front of her, the man flirting with her, casting out signals. His gaze was slung low on her chest as it should be. She’d hardly covered her girls up at all and even though the bar was a little steamy, her nipples were firm and probably nicely puckered, pushing against the dark blue silk.
He leaned in close, his hand sliding up her leg and squeezing her bare thigh. The man had a nice firm possessive touch. He whispered against her ear, “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a place close by.”
Shivers chased down her shoulders and sides from all that breath over her neck. Her heart set up a racket in her chest.
She didn’t answer him. She just slid off the stool, took his big hand, and headed for the door. This is what she remembered it being like, the excitement, meeting some stranger, getting worked up after a couple of drinks, wondering how good he’d be in bed.
She had a knack for picking men who knew how to work it. This man had good lay written all over him. God, what a body, almost as big as Thorne.
Thorne again! Dammit!
She reached the cool clean desert air and drank in a big gulp, hoping to clear her head. But there it was again, cherry tobacco, stronger now that she was outside. She looked to her left and could see him in the shadows but she just lifted her chin and moved on. She needed him to get a clue, that he could glower all he wanted, but this was the life she wanted, the life she’d chosen. Hell, this was the life she’d earned after so many decades locked up.
But when she’d gotten a few feet down the sidewalk, suddenly he was just there, all misted up so her new man couldn’t see him. He didn’t try to touch her but she couldn’t help looking straight at him. Oh…God.
Don’t do this, his mind sped straight into hers. Please.
His hands had dropped to his sides and were balled into fists. She could tell he was holding on by a thread.
She dropped her gaze to his chest. She couldn’t bear looking into his eyes. How could she explain the why of all this, but then explaining wasn’t necessary. This was what killed her about Thorne; he got her, he understood her, he knew she had to do this, had to leave, had to move on. In his way, he was letting her go. He sure as hell could have just thrown her over his shoulder and maybe that’s what she wished he would do so that she didn’t have to choose.
But she had chosen.
Thanks for not making a scene, she sent.
Fuck, he responded, probably not meaning to.
Let me go, Thorne. Please.
Another quiet ‘fuck’ left his mouth, but he dematerialized.
Her new man leaned down, “We good?”
She looked back up at him. “We’re good.” She still had hold of his hand so she gave it a squeeze.
But something deep inside her trembled. She felt an overwhelming need to get back to Thorne.
Would this torture never end?
Would she never truly be free of Second Earth?
She forced the trembling to stop.
Fuck all that.
She had a life to live.
She gave her short blond feathered curls a toss.
He put his hands on her waist. “What’s your name?” He dipped his head low and kissed her cheek.
“That’s a beautiful name. Marguerite.” He said it slow, like he was practicing, like he intended to say it a lot and at exactly the right time.
“What’s yours?” she asked. He shifted her beside him and set them both moving slowly in the direction of a big Chevy Silverado, the kind with four wheels on the back. A big man needed a big truck.
She needed a big man.
“Jose. My name’s Jose.”
“Si.” The word popped out like a whip. “Mexican okay with you?”
“You mean, do I discriminate?”
“Si.” Again, like a whip.
She put her hand on his hip and moved lower, sliding her fingers so that she rested over the entire beautiful length of his erect cock, the jeans rough against her fingers. “Oh, I discriminate. Right here, Jose. Is that okay with you?”
He hissed. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
She smiled. “Let’s go, Jose, before I change my fucking mind.”
This time he smiled. He had a wonderful smile full of big teeth. She wanted those teeth on her.
Thorne had big teeth, too. He’d use them nipping, pulling, biting, plucking. He’d done it for a hundred years and new exactly how to work her up.
Dammit, Thorne again.
~ ~ ~
Thorne stood in the shadows of the building. He didn’t know what to do. Her scent was heavy in the air.
He watched them get into the truck.
He created more mist. He lost his shirt and mounted his wings. He shot into the air high overhead and followed the truck.
The red strobes still flashed through his brain but at least some part of his mind was functioning because his rational side had begun to calculate, to figure this damn thing out. The man, Jose, would die tonight unless Thorne got his shit together and connected some dots.
He could engage in fist-to-fist, a battle he would win. So at the very least, yeah, he was doing that. He’d make the bastard unconscious so that he’d live, but Marguerite would be pissed. She didn’t have the gentlest temperament, an understatement that made him smile. She was his wildcat, game for anything, and he loved that about her.
But in this situation, her fighting spirit limited his options.
So what the hell was he supposed to do now?
He could call the cops, create a little diversion, cause some chaos. Again…woman…pissed. The one thing he’d learned from being Endelle’s second-in-command was a little diplomacy, a sense of timing, a sense of when not to go all shock-and-awe, when something less splashy was called for. Not that he’d learned strategic thinking from her, rather he’d learned because of her scorpion temperament and her recklessness. Thorne wasn’t reckless, which was one reason his current predicament was a total shitfest.
He’d like to let loose. God knew he would. He’d like to let loose, use every power in his arsenal, and fix this thing right now. But that was warrior thinking; shoot now…don’t even think about asking questions later.
No, this fucking conundrum required finesse.
The truck pulled in front of a house that was much nicer than expected given the man’s tats and the overall sleazy nature of the bar. The rock landscaping out front didn’t even have weeds. Huh. The bastard might even be a fairly decent bastard. Thorne even liked the truck. He knew the score. A big man needed something that fit the size of his shoulders.
As the bastard left the driver’s side and went around to Marguerite’s door, Thorne touched down at least fifty yards away, keeping his mist tight. He drew in his wings. He knew if Marguerite looked around, she’d see him but when Jose opened the door, she pushed off the running board and leaped into his arms.
He caught her and wasted no time jamming his tongue down her throat. His woman ate it up.
He watched both sets of jaws working like mad.
Before he realized he’d thought the thought, he pushed his mind against Jose’s and slipped through the backdoor of the bastard’s head. He was inside the man’s mind.
He ignored the firebomb of desire that flipped words like tits-and-ass through the bastard’s head with rapid slingshot-like movements. Instead, he focused on what he’d been missing for three weeks, the feel of Marguerite’s swift darting tongue pushing into his mouth…well, Jose’s mouth.
The experience was unusual to say the least, because it was as though he was not only inside Jose’s mind but he could feel what Jose was feeling, he knew his mind and there seemed to be a strange vibration to the whole experience, like a low level of electricity all through Thorne’s body.
At the very least, he felt like he could take partial-possession of Jose’s mind and body and just enjoy the ride, but because the red strobes were still flashing in his head, he knew at some point he’d probably lose it and take every one of the bastard’s brain cells with a pointed thought or two.
He forced his brain to work hard at a solution, even in the face of Jose pawing Marguerite’s breasts.
Oh, dear God.
He had to figure this out. He started flipping through Jose’s memories. He had a bunch of friends. He liked women, a lot. He knew how to use a blade. He sure as hell knew how to use his cock. There was a lot he liked about the man. He even earned his living buying and selling shit on the internet. The bastard was a goddamn entrepreneur. Okay, he really couldn’t kill him now. He was a contributing member of society.
So what the hell was he supposed to do?
What could he do?
He focused on the bizarre ability he was experiencing, the strange vibration, the ease with which he could feel all that Jose was experiencing.
He pulled out of his mind.
Jose drew back from Marguerite, slid his arm around her waist and propelled her to the front door.
A moment later, that door closed and Thorne was left alone in the dark.
The trembling through his body started all over again. Jesus H. Christ. He felt all those impulses fall on him, to race after the bastard and strip his skin from his body, one inch at a time.
Instead of reacting, he worked on his breathing and focused on this new strange sensation. Something was going on, a new power maybe, something unexpected. That deep throbbing in his brain got a little worse as well, but mostly it was this strange vibration and an urge to put a hand on Jose, but this time not to hurt him.
What would happen then, if he touched him?
He once more slid inside the bastard’s head and sifted through the man’s recent memories. He found a recent interaction with a friend named Miguel. He could see Miguel’s face, even hear his voice.
Thorne sped to the front door and pounded. He then moved back about ten feet, still cloaked in mist. He called out, “Hermano, get your ass out here,” in just the way Miguel would have, the way he often heard Santiago speak.
Jose opened the door and peeked his head out. He was sweating and his shirt was off.
Thorne penetrated Jose’s mind and offered a little thrall action. Tell her you’ll be right back. Your friend needs your help.
He looked behind him. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. My friend, Miguel, is having problems.”
Thorne could feel Marguerite reaching out for him telepathically but he shut his mind down hard. He guided Jose to his truck and told him to hop in the back and have a nice nap. Jose practically sprang inside, stretched himself the length of the bed, and was out.
Thorne, now balancing on the top of the side looked down at him. Marguerite wouldn’t remain where she was for very long. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it quick.
He leaped into the bed beside Jose and went with his instincts. He put his hand on Jose’s face and felt that same vibration, a kind of electricity. He let it flow until it streamed through Thorne’s body. His mist dissipated.
He rose up and turned toward the house.
Marguerite stood in the doorway, topless, her arms folded beneath her beautiful oh-so-familiar breasts. She still wore her short skirt and stilettos, which somehow made the whole picture sexier than if she was completely naked.
He was in for it now.
“Well, you coming or not?”
Thorne froze. Why wasn’t Marguerite mad? Or was she? She didn’t look mad? Her lips were swollen and she was ready for the action she’d been chasing all night.
He jumped down lightly from the bed of the truck. He was about to explain that he didn’t want to kill her date so he’d put him in a slight doze when he realized that he wasn’t quite himself. He felt odd just moving his legs. His upper thighs seemed heavier than usual like he carried a few more pounds. He glanced down and saw…not himself.
Holy hell, he’d just morphed.
Well, didn’t this change things up?
For a split-second, he considered telling her the truth, but because she lowered her arms and thrust her chest out, he thought he’d be a fool to do anything other than accept her invitation.
~ ~ ~
Marguerite looked her prey up and down. He was built like Thorne except beefier. She’d also felt the most important part of him and yeah, like, Thorne, his assets were just right, maybe not quite as well-endowed as Thorne but he’d do. God, yes, he’d do.
She smiled. She’d been waiting for this for a hundred years and three long weeks. She didn’t know why she’d even put this off. Anticipation streaked through her in fiery flashes and watching Jose move toward her now like he meant to devour her in one big bite, made her smile broaden.
Jose smiled back.
“What were you doing out there?” she asked when he reached the doorway.
“You should be inside,” he said. “I have neighbors.”
“Thought I’d give ‘em a thrill.”
“You’re giving me a thrill.”
“That’s all that matters.” When he got close, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the house then slammed the door.
He moved fast as he picked her up and lifted her high, really high, as in his-mouth-to-her-breast high. She slung her legs around his back. He slammed her against the door.
“You getting rough with me?” But she was panting a little.
He settled in for a suck, taking her breast in his mouth and tugging in hard pulls, just the way she liked it. She knocked her head against the door because his mouth felt so good. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed.
Thorne used to suck her breasts like this, like he was drinking from the fountain of life and couldn’t get enough. She had loved it then. She loved it now. Did all men enjoy breasts like this? She didn’t know. The memories of the men she’d had before Thorne were a century distant, all but forgotten in terms of technique.
“Hey, where did you go?” Jose looked up at her. She liked his accent.
“I want my skirt off.”
All those big teeth gleamed in the dim light. He leaned back and let her slide to the floor. He stepped away from her, his lids at half-mast. She reached behind her and unzipped the tight red leather. The zipper could have been a little longer, but it made wiggling out of the damn thing the right kind of show to put on. It was a real trick to keep her thong on at the same time, but she managed. It was just a bit of lace and sheer red fabric, but he would probably appreciate a little more anticipation..
When Jose’s gaze felt to her bare mons, he whispered, “Brazilian.” And his eyes rolled in his head then he licked his lips.
“Where’s your bedroom. I wanna be on my back.”
“I want you on your back.”
He didn’t give her directions, he slung an arm behind her back and the other behind her knees and she was airborne. He was just strong enough and she was just small enough that he tossed her in the air a little as he walked.
She giggled. She was so damn happy.
When they reached the master bedroom, he tossed her on the bed and she landed laughing. She spread her legs wide and because it was something Thorne had always loved, she slid her hand down her abdomen, beneath her thong, and massaged herself.
“You’ll make me come just standing here if you keep that up.” Yep, she really liked his accent. There was just something so smooth about a Latin cadence.
“You’ll have to stop me.”
His jaw trembled and he moved kinda slow so she kept rubbing. It felt good.
“You like your hand there?”
“Sometimes my hand is my best friend.”
“Not tonight.” But he leaned down and kissed the back of her hand and nuzzled her, pushing at her so that together they were giving her a thrill.
She liked Jose. She liked his style. Thorne would have done something like this. Thorne would have loved how bare she was.
Thorne again…and yet, she didn’t feel quite so guilt-stricken. He’d probably taken off, at last, and now she was free.
She felt free.
Jose finally seemed to reach his limit with her self-ministrations. He pulled her hand away and slid her thong off, taking his time, but his gaze was fixed to the full lips of her lower body and again his tongue made an appearance. She leaned back on the bed, stretching out. She pulled her knees up but kept them spread wide.
He took a good long minute to look at her. She could hear him breathing. He sounded a little strangled.
She took the opportunity to let her gaze drift down his body. The sight of his broad chest and muscular pecs, his abs rolling down and down, caused her body to give one full undulating roll that ended with a strong tug deep inside. “I could come just looking at you,” she said.
He smiled. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. But unlike her, he caught his briefs at the same time so that his package sprang free and now it was her turn to lick her lips. Yep, almost as big as Thorne.
Funny how she kept thinking about Thorne and yet it no longer bothered her. Guess she was making progress.
About fucking time.
Jose grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He knelt, then he got busy.
Muy bueno, she murmured…
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I hope you enjoyed Obsidian Flame Chapter One. Let the Guardians of Ascension become a new journey for you.
For More information and Buy Links: Go here!
***Note: This book is published by St. Martin’s Press. St. Martin’s Press sets the prices.
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And now, have a wonderful day and an even better night! For more information about my books, keep scrolling! Live the fang!
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Do you enjoy free books!?! All year, I’ll be giving away copies of my e-books through my newsletter. I also run subscriber-exclusive giveaways, so be sure to sign up on my home page in the right hand column where it says: Subscribe to Our Mailing List! Once you do, you’ll receive a welcome letter with a link to your free e-book! Enjoy and hugs, Caris Roane!
Be sure to look for your welcome letter which has the link to your free e-book!
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Most Recent Releases:
A VAMPIRE’S SOFT EMBRACE
Taking the vampire into the past, changed the future…
The man held her heart in his hand.
He had for the past five years.
Did he even have the smallest clue?
~ A Vampire’s Soft Embrace
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REVEALED: Rapture’s Edge 3, A Guardians of Ascension Novel #11
He’s a warrior deep in his bones, but all she ever wanted was peace…
As Duncan battles the dangerous death vampires at night, during the day he fights an even greater monster: He can’t believe he’s worthy of the woman he loves.
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Mastyr Vampire Stone wants to bond with Aralynn, his battle partner, until he learns she lives a double life as a woman he despises…
For hundreds of years, Stone has lived a solitary life, serving Tannisford Realm as he battles the deadly Invictus wraith-pairs with his Vampire Guard.
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More about Caris Roane and her books!!!
THE FLAME SERIES
Vampire Officer Connor of the Crescent Border Patrol tries to suppress his desire for Iris, a powerful witch. Because the woman possesses the ability to kill him with the tips of her fingers, how can he possibly fall in love with her? When a double homicide throws them together, he soon finds his deepest fantasies fulfilled as Iris succumbs to his seductions.
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Vampire Officer Vaughn of the Crescent Border Patrol gets called to a triple homicide in a deadly place called the Graveyard. When he finds that Emma Delacey has been summoned to the same crime scene, warning bells sound. He’s tried to suppress his desire for the beautiful witch knowing nothing good can come of a relationship in the alter world of Five Bridges.
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Brannick works with Juliet Tunney to help several human women escape the nightmare of Five Bridges. But something isn’t right. Juliet acts as though she knows him really well, yet he’s only met her once. Unless…the dreams he’s been having about her aren’t dreams at all.
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AMBER FLAME, Book #4 of the Flame Series
Fergus has been without an alpha-mate for three years, from the time his wife was murdered. He’s failed repeatedly to bond with the female wolves of the Gordion Pack. When he rescues a fae woman from a sex club, his need to bond with her goes into overdrive.
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On Christmas Eve, vampire Officer Kyle Drake has finally persuaded the shy wolf shifter, Verena, to go on a first date. His plans include a little mistletoe and a lot of seduction.
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THE GUARDIANS OF ASCENSION SERIES
(After Ascension, Burning Skies, Wings of Fire, Born of Ashes, Obsidian Flame and Gates of Rapture)
Includes Sub-Series: Dawn of Ascension and the Rapture’s Edge Saga
Warrior Gideon swore he would never see Elise Jordan again even though they’d been passionate lovers for two years. Her human nature couldn’t survive in his ascended vampire world; she would be vulnerable to attack on every front if he tried to continue a relationship with her.
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Fearing that his newly emerged grayle power will kill innocent ascenders, Samuel Daman struggles to keep his distance from beautiful Vela Stillwell. But the breh-hedden has struck and her light floral scent tears at his restraint.
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For the last few weeks, since Warrior Duncan professed his intention ‘to try’ to make his relationship with Rachel work, he’s failed on all fronts. But how can he explain that a serpent lives in his gut, poisoning him against her?
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For decades, Warrior Duncan has had an on-again, off-again relationship with a woman opposed to his warrior lifestyle. When Rachel shows up in his life again, he wants to keep his distance, but the infamous breh-hedden, the myth-that-isn’t-a myth, bears down on him keeping him in a perpetual caveman-like state.
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THE BLOOD ROSE SERIES – SHORT WORKS
The Blood Rose Tales, are much shorter stories than the “Embrace” books of the Blood Rose Series. Each ‘tale’ highlights one particular aspect of the world of the Nine Realms as well as a mastyr vampire in pursuit of his Blood Rose.
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Zephyr can’t keep away from Alesia and feels obligated to keep her safe. They’d broken up, unable to reconcile painfully opposing views on what should be done to the evil Invictus pairs. But when several wraith-pairs attack her diner, he flies her to safety, taking her home where they’re trapped together for the entire day.
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Yolen keeps his love life and his work life separate with one goal in mind – to protect Brianna. After seeing his best friend slaughtered by the enemy, he will do whatever it takes to ensure Brianna’s safety even if it means holding her at a distance.
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For weeks, Mastyr Willem, agent for the Realm Investigative Unit, has been tracking Charlotte Vail, a human college student at the local Grochaire University. He’s had a thing for Charlotte that he doesn’t quite understand.
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THE BLOOD ROSE SERIES – THE BOOKS
Enter a world of blood-starved mastyr vampires and the rare women who can satisfy their deepest needs…
How can he resist his blood rose…
Gerrod, mastyr vampire of the Merhaine Realm, never thought to have his blood-needs satisfied by a mere human. But Abigail is no ordinary woman.
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Ethan, mastyr vampire of the Bergisson Realm, never thought to find his blood rose, the one woman who could ease the blood-starvation he’s endured for decades. But Samantha carries a surprising level of power as her newly discovered fae heritage emerges..
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Quinlan must keep Grochaire Realm safe from the enemy at all costs. As ruler of his realm, a woman has no permanent place in his day-to-day existence. But when his lust takes him to Batya’s bedroom, he soon discovers he’s deep into a powerful experience that threatens to blow his life apart.
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Seth, Mastyr Vampire of Walvashorr Realm, craves Lorelei, his new bodyguard, but he has a hands-off policy with those under his command. However, the sexy glint in her eye, as well as her wolf-shifter ways, keeps him in a fevered state.
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Mastyr Vampire Jude has kept his distance from all women because he lost his wife and daughter to an enemy attack a hundred years ago. He won’t go through that kind of loss again. And he won’t jeopardize another woman’s life while the deadly Invictus wraith-pairs still pose a threat in the Nine Realms.
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Mastyr Vampire Malik has only one goal: to serve the realm he loves. Battling both the dreaded Invictus wraith-pairs and an element in Ashleaf Realm that wants all innocent wraiths dead, Malik can’t afford to get distracted. But Willow has already become an obsession as he lusts for the powerful fae whose blood he craves.
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Mastyr Vampire Zane didn’t want another woman in his life not after the dreaded Invictus killed his wife five years ago. He serves Swanicott Realm, the land he rules, and doesn’t want anything to interfere with his war against the enemy.
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Mastyr Vampire Ian never wanted to see Regan again. He blamed her for the massacre at Raven’s Overlook, an attack that killed his sister and her children. He’s convinced Regan enthralled him, using her extensive fae powers to keep him by her side. If he’d been in his realm that night, he could have saved 200 people.
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Mastyr Vampire Griffin hates his enslavement in Margetta’s fortress. He sought death a thousand times because of it, but was denied when the Ancient Fae brought him back repeatedly, forcing him to train her evil army. When a beautiful fae-slave, Sandra, tells him to live, he begins to believe his life could have more meaning…
Caris Roane is the New York Times bestselling author of forty paranormal romance books. Writing as Valerie King, she has published fifty novels and novellas in Regency Romance. Caris lives in Phoenix, Arizona, loves gardening, enjoys the birds and lizards in her yard, but encourages the scorpions to inhabit elsewhere! Her motto: Live the Fang!
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