Beloved bitch, you and our son are the most miraculous thing to happen to me in this lifetime and I will love you until the stars grow dim. Your fantasy fulfillment is just beginning.
Cuddling close, spooning our bodies together, I tiptoed into her dreams.
Tell me your dreams, sweet bitch!
Camille Anthony
Camille Anthony is a pseudonym for the author who lives in the beautifully wild Low Country of South Carolina. She is a transplant from Sunny California. A fertile imagination and a love of romance fuels her writing, which she has been doing since grade school. Her favorite stories are those of strong, honorable people--whatever the race, or planet of origin--who are driven by love and lust to find and hold that one special someone. She likes her heroines feisty, her heroes dominant and her passion red hot!
She loves to hear from her readers. Your comments and suggestions are appreciated.
Visit Camille on the Web at www.camilleanthony.com or e-mail her at [email protected].
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Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of
Dark Knights 1:Eternity of Darkness
by Shana Nichols
Coming this summer from Loose Id
Dark Knights 1: Eternity of Darkness
Moonlight caught Julie’s hair, gave its strands a golden glow. The ends curved inward, swayed slightly in the breeze, occasionally brushing her jaw the way he itched to do. Fine tendrils caressed the slender column of her throat, pale against the silky black material of her shawl, holding Stefan’s gaze, taunting him. He tried hard not to salivate, to recall his mission was to protect, not consume and very possibly destroy the mortal Louis had marked as his next victim.
He could seduce Julie in order to save her. He could. He could then walk away, leaving her with nothing but a vague memory of him in the deepest reaches of her mind. How difficult could it be?
Much more difficult than he’d have imagined before meeting her. For the first time in years--centuries--he genuinely wished he could crawl into Julie’s mind and stay there. Become part of her mortal life and take her with him into his own world… Stefan had the feeling that when he left her, he’d leave a large part of himself.
Thinking about the vase of roses Renard had sent her incensed Stefan, far more than the gesture merited. The inexplicable pangs of hunger that wracked his own belly filled him with self-loathing, because that hunger wasn’t for sustenance but for the sensual pleasure of tasting Julie. Possessing her. He told himself it was the night and their proximity, the danger from which he’d been charged with protecting her. But he was fairly certain he was indulging in self-deception of the worst, most dangerous sort.
Who but a eunuch could fail to be stirred at the sight of her, bathed in moonlight while the bright neon signs of upscale clubs lent her sun-kissed skin a surrealistic glow? Though Stefan resisted it, his arousal grew painful as the evening wore on. Touching her, warming his hand on the silk-draped curve of her hip…feeling the intimate heat of her fingertips through the thin fabric when she tucked them into the back pocket of his slacks…listening to the lilting sound of her soft voice when she pointed out her city’s landmarks…had him primed and ready. He ached with hunger for what he must not take.
Always sensitive to his surroundings, Stefan tried to tell himself it was the moonlit night, the flashing neon and soulful jazz music that wafted to his ears from one of the clubs along Rush Street, putting him on sensual overload. But he knew that wasn’t entirely true. While his mind registered the signs blinking red and green, blue and purple and gold, flashing names like Mario’s and Dublin Pub and Syn and Pippin’s, his body heated in response not to them but to every stroke of Julie’s fingers on his forearm, searing and arousing him even through the layers of his clothes.
“You know, I haven’t seen you nibble on the snacks or take more than a sip from your drinks anywhere we’ve stopped. You must be famished. I know this little retro diner down by the river that serves some of the best omelets you ever ate. Would you like for me to take you there?”
Stefan tried not to fixate on the throbbing pulse in her throat. “I have somewhat eccentric feeding habits. If you’re hungry, of course we may head to the place you speak of.”
She stopped beneath a streetlight, faced him, and laid her hands flat on his chest. It seemed natural, right, for him to make himself inhale and exhale, to enjoy feeling his flesh rise and fall against the light pressure of her fingers. Then she spoke, her voice soft yet urgent. “What I’m really hungry for is you.”
“And I for you. From the moment I saw you, I knew this was destined.” He cupped her cheek, brushed his lips across hers, barely able to restrain himself from deepening the kiss, tasting her more fully. When she moved close enough to warm him with her body heat, his blood surged, leaving him lightheaded. Carnal need overcame caution, ballooned, robbed him of rational thought. His fingers tangled in the golden strands of her hair, for he dared not draw her closer, show her graphically how much he wanted her. Not here, underneath a street light at the corner of Rush and Oak Streets, in plain view of any merrymakers who might chance to leave their favorite watering holes at just this moment.
He dared not break the gentle kiss, for if he did, he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tasting her…putting her at risk in a way she couldn’t possibly understand.
Finally, Julie pulled away, tilting her head back as though offering her throat for his pleasure. Her tongue darted out, sampling the taste of him on her tempting, swollen lips. When she looked up at him, her cheeks glowed. Her desire was evident from the accelerated pulse he noticed in that tempting, vulnerable vein in her throat. “Let’s go back to my house.”
Stefan gazed into her beautiful eyes. He’d set out to seduce her, only to find himself thoroughly seduced.
* * * * *
The bedroom reflected who Julie was…who Stefan wasn’t. Walls the color of clotted cream, moldings pristine white, satiny French doors overlooking a floodlighted garden through the sheerest of curtains. A huge painting of sunflowers on a dark-blue background--excellent quality, but he didn’t recognize it as the work of an artist he knew--hung above a king-size bed. Glancing back at the bank of doors with clear glass panes, he imagined the morning sun bathing the spacious room in light. Light he’d find blinding if he didn’t don the dark glasses he never ventured outside without during the day.
Nothing like his bedroom back home, with its deep burgundy draperies that closed off the view of the English Channel, and matching bed hangings to block stray sunbeams that might have sneaked past the initial barriers. She’d hate your home, find it too dark, oppressive.
Not a problem, he told his inner voice. That would never be an issue, no matter how much Stefan might wish otherwise. He didn’t need his conscience to remind him of Julie’s vulnerabilities. Of the danger of him that she courted so unknowingly, inviting him to take her as she’d done moments earlier.
He’d managed to resist showering with her when she asked, just barely. Now the sound of rushing water filled his ears, flooded his mind with images of droplets sluicing over Julie’s slender throat, her ripe, full breasts. Her belly. He longed to go to her, kneel, and lick away the moisture there. She’d taste so clean, slightly salty, her fragrance of musk and roses light, never overpowering.
No. He had to maintain some semblance of self-control. Shield her not only from Renard but from the beast that roared within himself. Seduce her, protect her…then walk away once the risk to her was over, leaving her to her mortal pursuits. He glanced at the painting above the bed, suddenly realizing when he noticed the bold “JQ” at the lower right corner that Julie did more than do restoration of paintings and dabble with art, as she’d mentioned earlier when he’d asked her whether she worked. She’d apparently created this and many of the other striking paintings he’d noticed when they’d made their way through her house.
He’d seduced a mortal who fed on sunlight and brilliant colors. Not o
ne who’d adapt to an eternity of darkness, even if he were selfish enough to turn her. Stefan barely held back an oath. It was so damn unfair to have found a perfect mate…one who wanted him as much as he wanted her, if he read her correctly…only to realize he’d have to save her life, then let her go.
He toed off his shoes, rubbed his feet against plush carpeting the dark blue color of the midnight sky. As he stepped out of his slacks, he noticed the waning moon peeking between the window frames. They only had three more nights…three days. Three short days before Louis would make his move, before Julie’s life would be in mortal danger and Stefan would be her only chance for survival. Three days to make memories that would have to last a lifetime--in his case, centuries during which he’d regret having lost her every waking hour.
In three days he’d have to be at his fighting best to meet an adversary stronger than any other he’d ever faced. An enemy stronger than himself. Fuck, but Stefan didn’t want to face Louis down with just Claude if Alex didn’t arrive in time. Not when Julie’s life would depend on him destroying his prey.
He’d have to fight Louis, for Claude was virtually useless in a fight, and Alexandre--if the young scamp got there in time to help--was still recuperating from his own foolhardy attempt to stop the killer vampire on his own.
Stefan had to have an edge. He dared not risk draining his strength in Julie’s welcoming body, yet he couldn’t deny her need. He’d have to tell her. Warn her of the danger she faced. Reveal himself for what he was and enlist her help in protecting herself, possibly even getting the police to listen and lend their protection. Perhaps she’d even help him find a likely source for fresh, life-sustaining blood other than the enticing vein in her pale, slender throat, for with his constant arousal, he knew he’d require a good supply.
Stefan bent, intending to dress before Julie finished her shower, then changed his mind and stripped off the rest of his clothes. Once she saw him as he’d been born centuries earlier, without the pretense of clothing, she’d have to believe he was of another species…the creature of the night that mortals had feared and reviled since the earliest recorded history.
That he’d be subjected to the pain of watching her desire turn to revulsion would nearly destroy him. But it couldn’t be helped. He flipped on a lamp on the bedside table, then drew back the coverlet on Julie’s bed.
In the bright circle of lamplight, she couldn’t help but notice his body didn’t look quite like that of most mortal males. Intending to lie there, exposed to her scrutiny, he stretched out between the pale blue cotton sheets. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he drew the top sheet up over his pale, hairless chest.
Surely it wouldn’t hurt for him to see desire on her beautiful face one more time before he made the admission he imagined must have sent many a mortal screaming for the nearest lawmen over the centuries since vampires had come to exist. Just for a moment, he told himself, he drifted into her mind, let her fierce need for him fuel his own passion, as though the irresistible pull between them were a harbinger of joy, not pain.
Stefan reached over and dimmed the lamp to a soft glow.
* * * * *
What people are saying about
Luna Ten 1: Cassiopeia
I love Ann Jacobs. What a different world she has created in Luna Ten! … Luna Ten is a hot, steamy, turn up the air conditioner to super high, have plenty of cold water on hand, type of read. Based on Ann’s Gates of Hell, Luna Ten is a standalone book and is part of a continuing series. You will do yourself an injustice if you do not add Luna Ten to your reading collection.
--Joy, Coffee Time Reviews
Luna Ten 1: Cassiopeia is quite a different look at the future. Ann Jacobs has done a wonderful job of giving the reader a look at her version of the future and laying the foundation for a series. Luna Ten 1: Cassiopeia is a highly erotic look at dominance and submission. I highly recommend it to all lovers of futuristic stories.
--Chere Gruver, Sensual Romance Reviews
…deliciously hot…a lovely introduction to Ms. Jacob’s new series for Changeling Press. With loving bondage and a “to die for hero,” this novel kept me hungrily turning pages to the end. I’m waiting with great expectation for the next one.
--Meribeth McCombs, Road To Romance
Werewolf Journals 01 - Wild in the City Page 15