Sneak Peek - The Wolfen Lover

Hi everyone!

I'm excited to announce that my vampire/shifter romance, The Wolfen Lover, is being released on April 17th. This story is soft, sensual and romantic...with some spicy erotic elements. Here is an excerpt from The Wolfen Lover...


Chapter One

Michael moved restlessly in his sleep. He thrashed in the dim cave where he lay. The nightmares that haunted him each and every night made his body spasm. He twisted in misery, held captive by his dark dreams.

He dreamed of his pack and the night they were attacked. He moaned, emitting a low, animal sound, and he thrashed upon the pelts and leaves that were his bed.His nightmare took him back to that terrible night, when he had lost the ones he loved the most. And he began to cry in his sleep - not for the first time.

Michael woke from his terrible dreams just before the dawn. He opened his eyes to slits, watching the fire he had lit in the late evening turn to ashes. The night skies outside the cave were black and starless, and he closed his eyes for a moment as loneliness and despair overwhelmed him. For a long time, Michael had been alone, so alone. The inky expanse of night sky seemed to plunge him deeper into sadness.

Michael lay by the dying fire, and he opened his eyes and stretched out upon his pallet. I am always alone, he thought. Day or night, it is always the same. He had left his tribe some time after the attack, when the vampire clan descended upon the Wolfen cave and destroyed their peaceful existence forever. He knew no visitors would come to ease his solitude, for all the creatures of the forest feared him now. They know I'm dangerous, he thought, and he rose and began to prowl the cave. His thick muscles ached from another tortured sleep, and only movement helped to ease the pain.

The fire was ashes now. Michael noticed the walls of the cave seemed painted with strange shadows, which seemed to cast mysterious images over the cold stone, like clouds moving through a stormy sky.

Michael hated the nightmares. He could see his mother's face, her soft fur streaked with blood. He could hear the cries of the wounded. Every night they died again, and every night he could only watch helplessly, just as he had on that macabre All Hallows Eve. I was young, he thought angrily. I was too young to defend them, and now they are dead. Michael had cowered in the back of the cave with the other young wolves. They were hidden in darkness, and the others held him back from running out to fight the vampires. He would always hate them for that.

Michael had other dreams, too, at times - disturbing dreams. He dreamed of mating, and he would wake up aching with the desire to share his body, and his heart, with another. He would arise each morning, draw warmth from the rising sun, and he would be a man again. For each morning, he awoke a young man and not a wolf, and he never made peace with his own magical nature.

Michael sat down on his pallet as dawn drew closer. The cave was cold now, an icy chamber. He groaned in pain as the change began, his sleek coat turning to warm, golden flesh, his animal limbs lengthening and becoming the lean, taut limbs of a human.
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Thanks so much for having a look. I hope everyone is having a fun holiday weekend :)

Tessa
http://tessalaneerotica.blogspot.com/

Free Excerpt - Of The Blood

Of the Blood Excerpt


I never dreamed I could feel alive again. The time had long since passed when I could remember the feeling of hot blood rushing to my face, of hands that trembled within my robes. And then I saw her . . . her warm honey eyes; her soft, creamy skin; her burnished auburn hair.

I was undead, long undead, but still I felt the passions of a man as I wandered forward, down the dark lane where she stood rummaging about in her small fabric bag. She pulled out a mirror, old and shabby, and gazed at herself under a burning lamp. She stood, coolly appraising her own face, and rearranged a lock of hair, tucking it behind one ear.

I waited. Time seemed to move faster as I drank in the lines of her young body, as agile as a dancer. I could see the swell of her breasts under her bodice, and the way the fabric clung at her hips emphasized their roundness. She was slim but voluptuous, and as I stared at her, hidden from her view, I wondered why she affected me so differently from the others.

She’s vain, I thought, amused. I felt a surge of pleasure as I pictured her at home in her bedroom, preening in front of a mirror. She knows she is beautiful, and she glories in it. I was certain. I looked down at my own clothes, my perfect suit and waistcoat, my polished shoes. We are the same sort, both of us. But I am undead, and she is soft and warm, and so young.

I longed to take her right there and to swoop down upon her like a great bird. I would kiss the ivory swell of her breasts where they rose and fell as she drew breath. I would inhale the fresh scent of wildflowers, and I would run my hands down the length of her, feel the flesh under her gown, feel her plush bottom against my palm. I would hold her tight, so tight, and cover her mouth with my own so that she could not cry out. Then I would drag her down to the grass where it was dark and pull up her skirts in one, rough gesture. I would fall on her and give in to my passion, the passion so long gone from me, which made me feel like a man once more.

I wanted to drink, of course—to taste. But I would wait until I’d had my fill of her, of her body. Then, I would take everything.

You can read the rest of this story for only 2.50 at Amira Press