This is a snippet from my WIP (work in progress) and follow up to my latest urban fantasy novella, THIEF OF HEARTS. Here in this scene, Gemma’s partner, Max, may have to choose between life and devil. And what use is a lothario from Hell if he can’t sate, I mean, save his succubus?
“Oh, Max...,” Gemma lamented. “What have you done?”
A rumble ripped through the clouds and Ari walked through a portal that manifested before them. He focused on Max immediately and clasped his hands in front of him. “Well, you rang?”
Max’s eyes widened in shock at the demon’s arrival, almost speechless until the urgency of the situation nudged him. “She’s really weak and no one at Pandora Ops is strong enough to feed her. If something isn’t done fast, she’ll die. She’s bleeding out. You have to help her.” Max stepped aside as Ari stared at Gemma laying quietly beside him.
“What is it she got herself into now?” Ari bent down and pulled her eyelids open, her face glistening with sweat. “I’m glad you called me. She’s wounded pretty bad. Nearly mortal.”
Max could’ve sworn the demon held a smirk of amusement.
Gemma mumbled against him. “I rescind your…”
He scooped her up into his arms and whispered. “You didn’t summon me, so you can stick that rescindment up Stellina’s ass.” Ari cleared his throat. “Come, my sweet succubus.” His bright eyes glowed with mischief. “Let’s get you well and back on these streets fighting baddies.” A sinister grin blossomed on his face before turning around and flashing out with her.
Max, now alone breathed a sigh of relief. Then, his phone buzzed.
It was Stellina.
Fuuuuuuck.
by Kharma Kelley
September 18, 2018
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Wicked Bayou Press
ISBN: 978-0-9981573-5-1
ASIN: B07GPLP4NS
Number of pages:250
Word Count: 70K
Cover Artist: Kharma Kelley
The night has a new ruler...
Sooner or later, Mr. Darkness comes for all of us…
At least, that’s what Tristan Castilion, a celebrated Commander of the Vampire Royal Guard, believes. A centuries-old vampire, he just wanted to be left alone. He wanted nothing to do with the war brewing among all the supernaturals and had grown tired of fighting for a lost cause.
Sucked into one last mission from his vampire government, Tristan soon finds himself in the middle of a dark conspiracy within the vampire ranks and a beautiful, half-naked demon chained to his bed.
She is every vampire’s fantasy and nightmare…
Zoë is a Black Blood Slayer—legendary demons bred to do one thing: kill vampires. A true ruler of the night, she's forced to keep her lethal wiles at bay in order to uncover the truth, creating an unlikely partnership with Tristan.
The Night Has a New Ruler…
Her blood is spiked with a desire he longs to tame, but if he does, he could be six-feet under; this time forever. But with both of them on the run and all hell breaking loose, how can he be sure she wants him to love or to destroy?
Fans of Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dannika Dark and Patricia Briggs will enjoy this non-stop action story featuring a badass heroine of color. It’s like Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and a Thriller had a ménage à trois of angry sex, then spawned this book!
Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/embed/RSmH_nVg41w
Excerpt:
Tristan no sooner entered the foyer of his home when he heard the rustling of metal upstairs and bared his teeth to attack. His gun drawn from his holster, he snarled at the thought of someone invading sanctuary. Someone had the gall to invade his home after the shit I've been through today? His body tense, he leaped to the top of the stairs, checking around the hall until he focused on his bedroom door closed with light shining under from under it. His senses still buzzing from the alcohol, he paused to get his bearings, letting the adrenaline stomp down his buzz. Ready to eliminate the threat, Tristan kicked down his bedroom door. With his gun drawn, he froze as his eyes met with the stark, violet eyes of a woman on his bed.
His mouth gaped open as she pulled against the glowing chains that were shackled to her wrists and ankles, the metal brushing against the bare flesh of her stomach, and lace-covered breasts.
Her abundant auburn hair cascaded down her back as she struggled to get to her knees as she faced him. She was breath-taking among the black satin of his bed and Tristan's eyes lingered over her from the full pout of her lips all the way down to the lacy black triangle at the meeting of her thighs.
Okay...It isn't his birthday...and what was in that fucking drink?
Her scowling face was less than pleased at Tristan's ogling. She pulled against the chains with a loud clink that brought Tristan back to earth.
"Take this off of me now!" Her eyes were thin slits as she glared at him.
Tristan moved closer to her, looking around the room for anyone else that decided to drop in on him. The only anomaly there was the woman wearing nothing but strange chains and underwear on his bed. His gun still drawn and aimed at her, he finally responded. "Who the hell are you?
And why the hell are you here? I didn't order a blood-bag stripper."
Zoë sneered at him viciously. "I'm not a stripper, you asshole! Now turn me loose or I'll rip your heart out!" She barked out through gritted teeth.
Tristan gave her a smirk. "Woo hoo, strong talk for a woman who can't move three inches from where she is." He chambered a round in his gun. "Now I'll ask you once more. Who the hell are you?"
He paused as she suddenly took a deep breath and inhaled him and the air around him.
"Damn it," she cursed under her breath as she realized what he was. Her senses reeling, she desperately tried to focus on her lucidity as her body primed itself for the hunt. NO! Not until I find out why I'm here in this jerk's room, she pleaded with herself. Focus. Focus. But it was too late. He was so close now, so very tempting and her body would not listen to reason. It was the nature of her kind, and yet she despised herself for it.
Tristan tried to shake the cloudiness from his head as he stared at her. All he could think of was ripping that delicate fabric from her body and plunging deep into her, then sinking his fangs into her lush, radiant skin and sampling her life force. He moved closer to her as she leaned back against the bed, her ethereal eyes seductive and enchanting. Tristan stopped at the edge of the bed, nothing but the iron rail to stop him from moving even closer.
But something in the back of his mind urged that it wasn't right. The need to sate himself with her made him want to tear the heavens down just to have her. This maddening, clawing sense of urgency that was so hot, it threatened to burn away all sense of reasoning. Even his stopping against the railing made his body burn for her. An insatiable need to taste her, to take her, as some unknown force drove him to her like a rabbit in a snare. The feeling was so innate and primal, Tristan could eagerly walk through all the flames of hell just to taste her now. It was what some would call, pure insanity.
He lowered his gun.
She crooked a finger to him to come closer and he obeyed, moving to the side of the bed, finally dropping his gun to the floor. Reaching for him, she closed her mouth on his, pressing her body against him. Tristan growled at her bare olive flesh rubbing against the folds of his clothes. He could feel all of her now as if there were no clothing between them. It made his body rigid, and throbbing. Never had he wanted to be inside someone with every fiber of his lost soul with such a hunger. Her full lips plundered him, greedy and lustful. He was already painfully erect, pulling at his coat to remove it as her mouth assaulted him in the most sinful way possible.
Zoë, you have to get a grip. She called within herself, as her tongue darted into his mouth, brushing against his fangs. He had the metallic taste of blood on his tongue as if he just came from feeding. The ripple of his flesh beneath his clothes begged her to strip him to see all of the sinew he hid from her gaze. When his erection poked against her stomach, she groaned at the promise of it. Every molecule in her body was honed to seduce him. To take him and make him hers...
The bastard deserves to die. He had just fed, probably off a human. Kill him now!
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the huntress in her clawing to get out. If she let it take over, this vampire was as good as dead. If she would reject it, the enthrallment would tear her soul to pieces. But this was not a 'stake the vampire, ask questions later' kinda situation. He's the only one who could help her out of the chains and probably out of this mess she somehow found herself in. She hated to admit it, but she needed the stupid vamp.
Just a little more, then you can kill him. Bite him!
"NO!"
Hissing, Zoë broke away, pushing him away from her. "Get away damn you!" Tristan shook the haze from his head as he saw her writhe on the bed in pain. His bedroom suddenly filled with the tortured screams of the woman as she convulsed and shook on his bed. He started to reach for her, when he saw her back as she pressed her stomach against the bed, screaming. Then she collapsed.
He went cold at what he saw.
Tristan stepped back as he saw the elaborate tattoo on her back. Wings were so beautifully crafted, one would have sworn the black feathers on her bare skin were actually real. But he knew exactly what those wings represented.
Oh, fuck me!
They were the symbol of the clipped wings of the league of angels who chose to fall to protect mankind.
Vampires were never at the top of the food chain, as much as they'd like to think so. They also had slayers; stronger and more gifted than any Buffy or Van Helsing a human could conjure up in their fantasy world.
They, and they alone were the true rulers of the night.
Black Blood Slayers, demons that had the power to lure a vampire from miles away if they chose. They could draw anything without a soul and bend some of those creatures to their will.
The supreme angels of death to vampires and the lesser demons on earth. They were beautiful, cunning, and absolutely lethal. Vampires unfortunate enough to encounter one did not live to talk about the experience.
And here was one, right in his bed.
Yeah, the night just keeps getting better.
Tristan no sooner entered the foyer of his home when he heard the rustling of metal upstairs and bared his teeth to attack. His gun drawn from his holster, he snarled at the thought of someone invading sanctuary. Someone had the gall to invade his home after the shit I've been through today? His body tense, he leaped to the top of the stairs, checking around the hall until he focused on his bedroom door closed with light shining under from under it. His senses still buzzing from the alcohol, he paused to get his bearings, letting the adrenaline stomp down his buzz. Ready to eliminate the threat, Tristan kicked down his bedroom door. With his gun drawn, he froze as his eyes met with the stark, violet eyes of a woman on his bed.
His mouth gaped open as she pulled against the glowing chains that were shackled to her wrists and ankles, the metal brushing against the bare flesh of her stomach, and lace-covered breasts.
Her abundant auburn hair cascaded down her back as she struggled to get to her knees as she faced him. She was breath-taking among the black satin of his bed and Tristan's eyes lingered over her from the full pout of her lips all the way down to the lacy black triangle at the meeting of her thighs.
Okay...It isn't his birthday...and what was in that fucking drink?
Her scowling face was less than pleased at Tristan's ogling. She pulled against the chains with a loud clink that brought Tristan back to earth.
"Take this off of me now!" Her eyes were thin slits as she glared at him.
Tristan moved closer to her, looking around the room for anyone else that decided to drop in on him. The only anomaly there was the woman wearing nothing but strange chains and underwear on his bed. His gun still drawn and aimed at her, he finally responded. "Who the hell are you?
And why the hell are you here? I didn't order a blood-bag stripper."
Zoë sneered at him viciously. "I'm not a stripper, you asshole! Now turn me loose or I'll rip your heart out!" She barked out through gritted teeth.
Tristan gave her a smirk. "Woo hoo, strong talk for a woman who can't move three inches from where she is." He chambered a round in his gun. "Now I'll ask you once more. Who the hell are you?"
He paused as she suddenly took a deep breath and inhaled him and the air around him.
"Damn it," she cursed under her breath as she realized what he was. Her senses reeling, she desperately tried to focus on her lucidity as her body primed itself for the hunt. NO! Not until I find out why I'm here in this jerk's room, she pleaded with herself. Focus. Focus. But it was too late. He was so close now, so very tempting and her body would not listen to reason. It was the nature of her kind, and yet she despised herself for it.
Tristan tried to shake the cloudiness from his head as he stared at her. All he could think of was ripping that delicate fabric from her body and plunging deep into her, then sinking his fangs into her lush, radiant skin and sampling her life force. He moved closer to her as she leaned back against the bed, her ethereal eyes seductive and enchanting. Tristan stopped at the edge of the bed, nothing but the iron rail to stop him from moving even closer.
But something in the back of his mind urged that it wasn't right. The need to sate himself with her made him want to tear the heavens down just to have her. This maddening, clawing sense of urgency that was so hot, it threatened to burn away all sense of reasoning. Even his stopping against the railing made his body burn for her. An insatiable need to taste her, to take her, as some unknown force drove him to her like a rabbit in a snare. The feeling was so innate and primal, Tristan could eagerly walk through all the flames of hell just to taste her now. It was what some would call, pure insanity.
He lowered his gun.
She crooked a finger to him to come closer and he obeyed, moving to the side of the bed, finally dropping his gun to the floor. Reaching for him, she closed her mouth on his, pressing her body against him. Tristan growled at her bare olive flesh rubbing against the folds of his clothes. He could feel all of her now as if there were no clothing between them. It made his body rigid, and throbbing. Never had he wanted to be inside someone with every fiber of his lost soul with such a hunger. Her full lips plundered him, greedy and lustful. He was already painfully erect, pulling at his coat to remove it as her mouth assaulted him in the most sinful way possible.
Zoë, you have to get a grip. She called within herself, as her tongue darted into his mouth, brushing against his fangs. He had the metallic taste of blood on his tongue as if he just came from feeding. The ripple of his flesh beneath his clothes begged her to strip him to see all of the sinew he hid from her gaze. When his erection poked against her stomach, she groaned at the promise of it. Every molecule in her body was honed to seduce him. To take him and make him hers...
The bastard deserves to die. He had just fed, probably off a human. Kill him now!
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the huntress in her clawing to get out. If she let it take over, this vampire was as good as dead. If she would reject it, the enthrallment would tear her soul to pieces. But this was not a 'stake the vampire, ask questions later' kinda situation. He's the only one who could help her out of the chains and probably out of this mess she somehow found herself in. She hated to admit it, but she needed the stupid vamp.
Just a little more, then you can kill him. Bite him!
"NO!"
Hissing, Zoë broke away, pushing him away from her. "Get away damn you!" Tristan shook the haze from his head as he saw her writhe on the bed in pain. His bedroom suddenly filled with the tortured screams of the woman as she convulsed and shook on his bed. He started to reach for her, when he saw her back as she pressed her stomach against the bed, screaming. Then she collapsed.
He went cold at what he saw.
Tristan stepped back as he saw the elaborate tattoo on her back. Wings were so beautifully crafted, one would have sworn the black feathers on her bare skin were actually real. But he knew exactly what those wings represented.
Oh, fuck me!
They were the symbol of the clipped wings of the league of angels who chose to fall to protect mankind.
Vampires were never at the top of the food chain, as much as they'd like to think so. They also had slayers; stronger and more gifted than any Buffy or Van Helsing a human could conjure up in their fantasy world.
They, and they alone were the true rulers of the night.
Black Blood Slayers, demons that had the power to lure a vampire from miles away if they chose. They could draw anything without a soul and bend some of those creatures to their will.
The supreme angels of death to vampires and the lesser demons on earth. They were beautiful, cunning, and absolutely lethal. Vampires unfortunate enough to encounter one did not live to talk about the experience.
And here was one, right in his bed.
Yeah, the night just keeps getting better.
About the Author:
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A Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy author, Kharma Kelley has been enamored with all things that go "bump in the night" for who knows how long. She truly believes that finding humanity and beauty in some of the most seemingly unconventional places is part of the romantic psyche to her. A big fan of the Big Easy, Kharma tends to weave her proud Cajun heritage and values into her books. She enjoys reading other urban fantasy and romance novels and is the founder of the Inclusive Romance Project--an online community and mentorship for romance writers of marginalized identities.
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"One Wild Ride!"
The night has a new ruler. Vampires better run & hide. She commin' for dat ass!
KISS OF THE FALLEN is a urban fantasy romance. HEA guarantee!
AVAILABLE NOW: https://books2read.com/u/m0gWgJ
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Tour Giveaway
1 Signed Print Copy of Kiss of the Fallen
4"I support Indie authors" stickers
1 "Bite Me" Vampire Unicorn 3" sticker
2 Bookmarks
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