Sequel to the Amber Allure best-seller My Soul He Seeks...
After their first introduction in Ternekill, and through the sharing of an amazingly emotional paranormal experience, Byron Shepley and Ravol Nova have remained lovers for two years. Finally, Byron has come to terms with his relationship with the mysterious Terne House and his unusual ability to connect with spirits of the past.
But circumstances change when Byron is abducted by Ravol’s fierce enemy, who will use Bryon to bring Ravol to his knees. On a night lit by a full moon, Byron may finally get his wish to witness Ravol transform from human to beast—but it may be his last wish, as two beasts clash in a life-or-death struggle. Byron may be in for more than one surprise before the night is over.
Yet, revelations may not just be about Ravol, but about Byron, too, as he comes face-to-face with what may be not only his fate, but his destiny. Can love save them, or will his fate destroy them both?
Genres: Gay/Dark Fantasy/Werewolf/Shapeshifter/Gothic/The Arts/Paranormal/Ghosts/ Hauntings/BDSM (Light)/Series
Heat Level: 3
Length: Extended Amber Kiss (11k words)
Read a short excerpt...
...“Byron, are you awake?” Ravol’s voice is still growly and hoarse. It’s a remnant from his change, is what he tells me. “I’ve missed you—I need you now.”
The chains affixing me to the bed jangle as I roll onto my back, opening myself to him.
“I’m here, Ravol. I need you, too.”
His moist heat curls around me, coating me with his presence. I can smell his sweat. I worry about him when he goes out prowling on nights like this. If something did happen I’d be locked to the bed, and Ramon’s not going to interfere with Ravol’s order. I could never get to him fast enough if he needed me. Ravol says he’s simply making sure I’m safe. His enemies track him persistently. They’ll use me to get to him if they can. Ravol is always vigilant. He does some sort of spell around the house, some scent thing or other that he calls a Zhalazti safety net. Once a month he’s out there at the dark of the moon chanting, calling upon the Zhalazti goddess. I don’t understand it, but it’s apparently some charm thing that his tribe used to keep their wagons safe from marauders in olden times.
Beneath my shirt I even have to wear a bag of herbs that he puts together. He makes it stronger when he’s out of town. Heinrich can always tell when I’m wearing the stronger charm. He always jokes about me stinking up the place. I usually confine myself to my office when I have to wear that one. I hate answering questions about it and then needing to make up some story or other.
My attention is all on Ravol now. He comes over me, his body presses me deeper into the bed. His kiss, deep and hungry, transports me, sends the familiar zing of recognition throughout my body. As he lifts my hand, the gold cuff with the strange markings on my wrist rattles because the chain is still attached. He kisses my palm, nips at the heel with sharp teeth. His lips are slippery against mine. Blood of his prey?
“You could make me like you,” I say, just as I’ve said a hundred times before. “I’m ready. It would be easier.”
“No,” he answered sharply. “You will never be like me. You know what you would be. Just like that pelt that’s spread before the fireplace in the music room. Is that what you want?”
“But I’d be with you. You’d teach me to control the instincts. I’ve read the stories. There were some who survived and who controlled the madness.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He leaned down and kissed me fiercely, stifling my words, and at the same time drawing blood as his sharp tooth razed my lower lip. Ravol licked it clean and then he grabbed the tube of lube from the nightstand and squirted the gel into my ass. This was about urgency, as I knew his blood was still running high and hot. His lust was always so intense when he returned to me. Ravol used his fingers to stretch me, to get me ready to take his big prick. Firm, long fingers that reached deep inside me. And then he was over me, dragging my legs wider, lifting me as though I weighed nothing at all. My arms dragged against the chains binding me. The gold cuffs scraped my wrists, the familiar tendrils of pain clawing up and into each digit of my finger, each hand wrapped around the length of chain binding me to the headboard.
And then my attention was diverted as Ravol pressed his big prick into me, stretching me even more. Pain screwed up my arms, shoulder joint to wrist, as I twisted and writhed beneath him. He stretched my ass as the head popped past the ring, fitting so sweet and familiar inside my channel. Coming home, and I couldn’t help smiling at the stupid thought...