Interview with Badge Bunny’s Officer Drake

As I get all squirmy with excitement over this week’s release of my Protect and Serve story, Savage Wolf. I wanted to get to know some of the other men in uniform a bit more intimately *grin*. So I convinced Cynthia Sax to send Officer Drake, hero of Badge Bunny, my way……

Silvia: (shivers and fights not to lick her lips) Umm, Officer Drake how do you feel about having a werewolf on the force?

Officer Drake: (runs a big hand over his bald head) How do I feel? What kind of pussy shit question is that? Do I look like I have uterus? (looks down at the impressively large bulge in his tight cop pants)

Silvia:  (twines hands together to keep from reaching out to touch that  clear evidence of manhood) I would never question your manhood. It’s  quite . . ..um . . .obvious.

Officer Drake:  Hrumph. (studies Silvia, detecting sarcasm in her voice) As for your question, I feel like sunshine and fuckin’ rainbows, that’s how I feel. (rolls his eyes) I hate fuckin’ shifters. One minute they’re human, and the next minute, they’re animals. I wish they’d make up their fuckin’ minds. (holds up one lined palm) Now, before you bust my balls about Savage, I’ll admit that, so far, he’s been an asset to the force, cracking down on the bad guys, and yeah, rumors say he’s saved his partner’s ass more than once, but he’s still a shifter, damn it, and you never know if the wolf side will bust loose and he’ll do something crazy ass sick like tear a shoplifter’s throat out, or sniff a fellow officer’s ass.

Silvia:  Wolves can be unpredictable but some of us enjoy a bit of  danger. (looks Officer Drake up and down leaning over to look at his tight ass and thinks that if she were a shifter she’d damn well sniff it) You look like a rather  dangerous man
yourself.

Officer Drake: I’m dangerous only if you break the law. Break the law, and I’ll throw your pert ass in the clink, or worse, plug a hole in you… another hole. So I’m wondering… have you been a good girl, or a bad girl, Silvia?

Silvia (noting handcuffs hanging from his belt): Oh Officer, I’m afraid, I’ve been very bad. Do you get the chance to use those handcuffs often? What would someone for that particular privilege .  . .um . . . I mean punishment?

Officer Drake (dangles handcuffs from the tips of his fingers): These aren’t just for show. Are you coming with me peacefully, or do I have to restrain your sexy self?

Silvia (licks lips slowly): I do believe I’m in the mood to put up quite a struggle. You’re only getting me out of here if I’m thoroughly restrained.

Officer Drake (grins wickedly): I’ll use whatever means necessary to get my gal. (lunges at Silvia)

If you haven’t had the pleasure of getting to know Officer Drake, I highly recommend you check out Badge Bunny. It’s hot, wicked, and hilarious.

Vampire Week – Selena Illyria

Today the seductive Selena Illyria joins us with her thoughts on vampires…..

Like Moths to a Flame by Selena Illyria

They’re dark, dangerous and oh so seductive. They can be animalistic, primal and savage in a minute and in the next they’re weaving a silken web of desire in us, winding us so tight that we can’t resist. Perhaps it’s the age. Being immortal has its perks. To a vampire an eon is a blink of the eye. What wonders they could see, the good and bad of humanity. It’s fascinating and yet terrifying to know that this person could have seen everything from say the Hanging Gardens of Babylon to the Moon Landing.

Despite that fear, there is also the knowledge they could pick up. *wicked grin* Think of all the delicious delights they could have learned along the way, all those tips and tricks to make you squirm, scream and cry out in ecstasy. But it’s not all about the sex and danger is it? Well, maybe it could be depending on how you view it.

I find both sides of the coin fascinating. In a sense you have monster and lover all rolled into one. Think about it, you could have this ancient being, this person who’s seen it all and probably done most of it interested in you, of all the people they could pick. And yet depending on the kind of person you get, you could have the Saint or the Sinner or the devil in your bed. Pretty heady, yes? The question is what kind of vampire would you like?

There’s also something forbidden about the fact that they feed off of blood, our life source. You are literally they’re purpose for life, what’s keeping them alive, their next breath depends solely on you. Whoa, powerful , yes? There’s also the fact that we’ve grown up being told that drinking blood, at least in some cultures, is bad, wrong, you could be damned and here is a creature that does it. We’re defying societal and religious norms to be with this person. Romeo and Juliet eat your heart out! Brushing all that aside, what is it that you find sexy? Fascinating? Desirable? Irresistible? Who inducted you into the dark side and made want, yearn, for that painful kiss? Answer these questions and be entered to win a copy of Blood Claim: Trapped.

I know I love the danger and seduction of the vampire and I’m fascinated by how much they’ve seen and all the things I can learn. But let’s be honest, it’s mostly for the danger. lol

An excerpt from Blood Claim: Trapped:

Blurb:

Kit has never forgotten the cruel way Rysen rejected her as a possible consort over a hundred years ago. She’s striven to get stronger, pushing her attraction to him down and using her anger as fuel.

Rysen has always regretted the way he rejected Kit. As much as he loved her, Rysen despised the way her clan tried to use her as a political gambit for power and protection. But he never stopped wanting Kit, trying to make her his in every way possible.

When enemies attack, they use old magic to seal themselves off and stay safe. But now they find themselves trapped with a century of hunger rising between them….

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, domination.

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Excerpt:

Rysen ignored the throbbing of his cock. As much as he wanted to fuck her right now, he couldn’t. She was unconscious and she was hurt. When he got her in his bed, she was going to be awake and strong and enjoying every last bit of it.

His gaze roamed over her bruised and battered face. “Gods, she is beautiful,” he murmured. He leaned down, scooped her up in his arms, and held her close. He took in her mocha skin, some patches darker with bruises. One eye was swollen shut. He regretted every mark, every bruise, every injury he had inflicted on her, but words did not work with her. Ever since he had passed her over a hundred years ago, when her clan had offered her to him as one of his consorts, she’d loathed him, and she’d taken up her clan’s fight to avenge his insult against them.

He had wanted her — by the gods, he had wanted her — but he had always felt she was just too fine to bring into his world. She deserved better than to be a political sacrifice. His body shuddered at the very thought of her in his bed, arms over her head, tied to the bedposts, her legs spread far apart, her hairless mound glistening with her dew. Her pussy already dripping, ready for him to fuck her hard, fast, and deep. He wanted the image in his head so badly, and yet he knew if he even tried to make a move, she’d either kill him or die trying. He was tired of fighting her. He wanted to tie her to his bed, blindfold her, and show her the delights that could be had if she would only let him dominate her.

Carrying her up the stairs, he held her body close, cradling her like a precious relic. He made his way to the second floor. Out of all the women he’d ever encountered, she inflamed him like no one else. Her oval face, with her large, liquid brown eyes flecked with red, haunted him. Her full lips beckoned him. The graceful column of her neck invited him to sink his teeth into her jugular and drink deep of her life essence. He wanted to cup her small, high breasts and watch his hands travel along the curves of her sides, over her hips, down her thighs, caress her calves, and massage her feet. He wanted to rub his scent into her skin so that all would know she belonged to him and only him. There would be no others if she agreed to be his consort.

He could smell the odious poison in her blood. The wound on her palm was still open, blood slowly dripping from the cut. He would have to drain most of her blood and give her some of his. She would hate him for that.

Giving her his blood would allow him to track her wherever she went, to invade her thoughts and dreams, sense her moods, even from thousands of miles away. He would know if she were with someone else, he could even see through her eyes and take control of her body. He was the third chieftain of the Vampyre nation. He was the third most powerful vampyre in existence, his clan the third largest, and he was also third in line to ascend to the throne of the Vampyre monarchy. All he needed was a queen.

He made his way through a hallway and couldn’t understand why she’d bought this horrid place. It had no class, no sophistication. It was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods, the nearest town five miles away.

“How in the hell is help supposed to get here in case of an emergency?” he asked the sleeping figure in his arms. “And it’s not even pretty land. For the love of the gods, the garden is overrun with weeds. The lake is a cesspool, and I have yet to see one animal around here. My darling, you should have taken my offer to make you a queen. Then you could’ve had all the beautiful land you could want.”

Even in sleep she defied him. As if on its own, her hand rose and tried to hit him.

He chuckled. “I shall call it a pet project for you, then. A hobby. But this should not be your life. You’re too talented to waste your gifts on this place.”

She tried to hit him again. He wanted to take hold of her hand and kiss the back of it, brush his lips against the pulse point and feel her heart beat. He looked up and saw he was only a few feet away from the bedroom he sought, the largest one at the end of the hallway. He could feel the rival vampyres outside, walking around, plotting their next move. Once he saw to her comfort and recovery, he would go outside and destroy them.

“How dare they interrupt our fight,” he growled. “As soon as I know who they are, they will be dealt with.”

If he had won, she would have been forced to concede to him, and therefore her fate would be in his hands. As much as he hadn’t wanted it to come down to that, he would have preferred it to the suicide mission she seemed to be on when she decided it was in her best interest to fight him.

“So stubborn is my darling,” he murmured softly. He loved her for that. He loved everything about her.

He kicked open the door and looked around. He was relieved to see that the room was in good condition. The furniture was of good quality, no dust or broken items. A large bed, piled high with pillows and bed coverings, stood against a far wall, the headboard a wrought-iron monstrosity whose top nearly hit the ceiling.

“This will do for now. You, my darling, deserve so much more.” His cock throbbed at the thought of laying her down in the silks, satins, furs, and velvets of his own massive bed. He shook his head. He wouldn’t feed his sexual desire now, not yet anyway. He refused to leave her while some unknown threat waited outside, prowling around looking for a weakness in Blyder’s protection spells.

“They won’t find them,” Rysen murmured as he arranged her on the bed and pulled off her boots. He paused, wondering if he should undress her to see how extensive the damage was. Making up his mind, he gently took off her tank top. Next, he removed her jeans and then her underwear.

Once she was naked, he catalogued all that he saw. Though his body reacted to the sight of her, his mind worked overtime to keep his lust at bay. He could see the bruises and wounds slowly starting to heal or disappear, but not fast enough. He took hold of her wrist and held it, palm up. Her self-inflicted wound had not disappeared.

She was too weak. Her immune system wouldn’t be able to defend itself until she had fully recovered. The poison was working much too well.

Swearing, he placed her arm gently on the bed and shrugged out of his black leather duster. Kneeling, he took hold of her arm and brought it to his mouth. His tongue lapped at the spot he would bite into, preparing it to stave off infection.

His canines extended. His body began to heat, and his cock grew harder. He kissed her pulse point before biting down, and his back arched as her blood hit his tongue. The sweet, salty, metallic flavor caused his taste buds to explode with pleasure. His eyes drifted closed while her life filled his mouth like sweet, hot lava. The faint bitterness of the poison did not dampen his pleasure; it was nothing to one of his strength. He drank of her, careful not to drink too much.

A soft moan drew his attention. He saw her back arch, her breasts thrust into the air. The scent of her desire filled his nostrils, and he moaned in response. Blood slipped from his mouth, coating his chin, dripping down to stain his shirt.

Easy, darling. Be at peace. I’m going to take the poison from you,” he whispered with his mind.

I’m dying,” she responded.

No. I won’t allow it. You will not meet the Great Maker now or ever, if I have my way. Relax, my darling. Let me take care of you.

No…”

Do it,” he growled out.

He felt her resist before he reached out with his power. Like a whip cutting through the air, his power flicked out into the space between them; like rope, he wrapped his will around her, pressing her down to the mattress. Her body flinched before relaxing back onto the bed. Once he was sure he had taken enough of her blood, he reluctantly released her wrist and lapped at the wound. Once the puncture marks were closed, he bit down into his own wrist.

He gazed upon her naked body, which looked cold and waxy, almost deathlike. He shuddered. He’d become a vampyre so he wouldn’t have to lose anyone else he loved. Seeing her like this reinforced how much he loved her. His wound welled, blood dripping down onto the worn bedspread. He reached out and pried her lips apart.

“Don’t fight me, darling. Drink of me.”

He placed his wrist at her mouth and watched her react. Reaching up, she took hold of his arm, holding it in a vise grip, her lips pressed to his flesh. Her tongue darted out and lapped at his wounds, causing pinpricks of fire to dance up his arm, inflaming his arousal. Her mouth latched onto his wrist, and each pull of her lips felt like a caress on his cock.

Rysen’s shaft throbbed in time with each tug. He reached down and, with one hand, ripped open the button of his jeans, pulled down the tab, and slipped his hand into his pants. Taking hold of his dick, he began to stroke his hardened rod, eyes now closed, head tilted back. He rose on his knees and, with a bit of awkwardness, tugged his pants down until his cock was fully freed. He wrapped his fist around his shaft and started to pump, up and down, in a grip that would cause tears to form in most men’s eyes. The pain and pleasure cascaded through his body. Warm waves ebbed and flowed through his veins as his hips moved back and forth. He fucked his hand as if he were inside her.

Rysen,” she moaned, her voice echoing softly in his mind. He grunted in response.

My love,” he answered. He did not care that he had just admitted his feelings for her or what she would think of them. He paused briefly, remembering the moment that had brought them to this place. The point where he had become her enemy a hundred years ago.

http://www.loose-id.com/Blood-Claim-Trapped.aspx

My Vampire Books:

(Out Now at Loose-Id)

(Out Now at Loose-Id)

(Out Now at Loose-Id)

(Out Now at Purple Sword Publications)

(Out Now at Changeling Press)

Vampire Week: Michele Bardsley

Today the lovely Michele Bardsley shares her creative take on vampires….

Vampire Moms are Cool (and Scary) by Michele Bardsley

Writers are often given the advice to “write what you know,” which honestly isn’t all that fun. We know boring crap, like how to do dishes and mow lawns and yell at children. Wait. That’s what parents know. Writers know … how to make up stuff and Google a lot.

In 2004, I really wanted to write a vampire novel. Even though I was told the market was oversaturated with fanged ones (Hah! We are still neck deep in vampires, people … and yes, I will continue to make lame vampire jokes. You’re welcome.), I couldn’t get the idea outta my head about a group of single parents who were suddenly undead. My parental mind whirled with all the possibilities.

What would you do if you could never see the sun again? What if you were on a permanent blood diet? What if you had no choice but to become nocturnal? How in the world would you raise kids when you’re dealing with paranormal issues–not to mention a few cool new superpowers like über strength and mind control?  How would you deal with the concept that you’re immortal … and your children are not?  And what if a 4,000-year-old Irish hottie told you that you were his destined soulmate? (Okay, that last question was just a perk of writing romance. Heh.)

Answering these questions is how the small town of Broken Heart, Oklahoma and its supernatural residents were born. The first character to experience the wonders of being undead was Jessica Matthews, widowed mother of two. She’s just a normal mom dragging the trash can out to the curb one night, and then she gets attacked, killed, and wham! She’s sucking on the muscled thigh of a vampire with a killer accent and eyes like silver (that’s Patrick O’Halloran … oh, yeah, he’s that hot).

I wasn’t sure that readers would embrace the idea of parental bloodsuckers. After all, my vampires (aside from Lorcan, of course) aren’t driven by angst and guilt. Mostly, they’re cool with being undead and immortality and having awesome abilities. Also, my heroines are all snarky, and the stories, even when I’m addressing serious issues, are all on the humorous side.

Readers not only liked the concept of paranormal parents, but also enjoyed the world I created in Oklahoma, which is now populated with a variety of parakind. Broken Heart has lycanthropes, were-cats, fairies, dragons, and … well, who knows what else. Those are stories waiting to be told. To think, it all started with one smart-ass mother who doesn’t mind being a vampire at all. And when she says clean your room, kiddo, she means it. Hey! Don’t make her get out the fangs.

Excerpt from I’M THE VAMPIRE, THAT’S WHY

By Michele Bardsley

The night I died, I was wrestling a garbage can to the curb.

I had a perfectly healthy fourteen-year-old son who should have taken out the garbage after dinner, but he, and let me quote him directly here, “forgot.”

Every Sunday and Wednesday night we had the same conversation, usually five minutes after he crawled into bed. Here’s the script:

Enter the Mother into the Pit of the Despair. I refuse to walk more than a foot into the Pit because I’m afraid a radiated tentacle might emerge from a gooey pile of papers and clothes and drag me, screaming and clutching at the faded carpet, into the smells-like-lima-beans clutter. I open the door, try not to inhale any noxious boy-room fumes, and delicately scoot one Ked-protected foot inside. Cue dialogue.

“G’night, honey. And Bry? Did you take out the garbage?”

“Oops.”

“It’s twice a week. It’s your only chore. I pay you ten bucks every Friday morning to do it.”

“It’s a heinous chore.”

“I know. That’s why I pay you to do it.”

“Sorry, Mom. I forgot.”

At this point in the twice-weekly argument, variations occurred. Sometimes, Bryan faked snores until I went away, sometimes he actually fell asleep mid-lecture, and sometimes he whined about how his nine-year-old sister Jenny didn’t do chores and I still paid her five dollars every Friday morning.

So, yet again, just after ten p.m. on a Wednesday night, I found myself pulling first one, then the second thirty-gallon garbage can down the driveway, and trying to align the grimy plastic containers near, but not off, the curb. Do not get me started on sloppy, lid-flinging, half-trash-dumping garbage men who are extraordinarily picky about the definition of “curbside pick-up.”

When huge, hairy hands grabbed my shoulders and heaved me across the street and into Mrs. Ryerson’s prized rose bushes, I didn’t have time to scream, much less panic. The whatever-it-was leapt upon me and ripped open my neck, snuffling and snarling as it sucked at the bleeding wound.

Good God. What sort of man-creature could hold a grown woman down like a Great Dane and gnaw on her like a favorite chew toy? It slurped and slurped and slurped … until the excruciating pain (and honey, I’ve suffered through labor twice) faded into a feeling of weightlessness. I felt very floaty, like my body had turned into mist, or like that time in college when I took a hit of acid and had the “Tinkerbell” episode. I knew that if I just let go, I’d rise into the night sky and free myself from gravity … from responsibility … from Bryan and Jenny.

Just thinking about my kids slammed me down to Earth. My husband had passed away a little more than year ago in a car accident. Don’t feel too sorry for me, though. I was in the middle of divorcing the son-of-a-bitch.

I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t lift my arms. I couldn’t open my eyes. But I felt my body again, every aching, pain-throbbing inch of it. The heavy, smelly thing pressing my limp body into thorny branches and noisily smacking against my throat grunted and rolled off. Dry grass crunched and leaves rattled as it moved, growling and groaning like well-fed coyote. I didn’t flicker an eyelid for fear it would try for a killing blow, though if the state of my neck wound was as bad as I thought, I was dead anyway. Then I heard the sounds of bare feet slapping against pavement and realized the thing was running away. Fast.

I don’t remember how I disentangled my sorry self from the bushes. I have vague memories of the roses’ too sweet scent as I crawled across the street and collapsed near my knocked-over garbage cans.

For those who know me, meeting my end amid muttered curses and spilled refuse was not a great shock. But, shock or not, it was still a crappy way to go.

* * *
Some people believe that dying ends all possibilities of humiliation.

Not so.

When I awoke, I wasn’t standing at the pearly gates of heaven. Well, not unless the religious definition of “pearly gates” was way, way off-base.

I was latched onto the velvety inside of a muscular male thigh, my teeth embedded in the flesh near his groin, my mouth soaked with warm, very tasty liquid.

No, the man was not wearing pants. Hell, he wasn’t wearing underwear. Who am I kidding? The man didn’t have on a stitch of clothing.

I wish I could say that the embarrassment of my cheek brushing against his testicles outweighed my need to suck his blood—and yeah, I know, ew—but it was like … it was like … a half-off sale at Pottery Barn. No, better. It was like eating, without gastrointestinal or caloric consequences, a two-pound box of Godiva’s champagne truffles. No, no … like … oh God, like finally fitting into that pair of skinny jeans that taunts every woman from the back of her closet.

Uh-huh. Now you know the ecstasy I’m talking about.

After another minute or two of sucking on the stranger’s thigh, I felt firm, long fingers under my chin.

“That’s enough, love,” said an Irish-tinted voice. “You’re healed now.”

With great reluctance, I allowed the fingers cupping my jaw to disengage me from the yummy thigh. I sat up, licking my lips to get every dribble of blood (ew, again) smeared on my mouth.

“Where am I? What happened? Where are my kids?”

“Ssshhh. Everything will be explained.” He tilted his head, looking me over in a way that caused heat to skitter in my stomach. “Your children are fine. Damian is watchin’ them.”

Damian? Who the fuck was Damian? Whoa, girl. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Well, crud. The whole breath thing wasn’t working. I didn’t even want to think about my lack of heartbeat. I had to stay calm. I focused on the room and realized I could see everything clearly. What the hell? I had been relying on glasses to see past my nose for almost ten years. With this kind of vision, I probably could see all the way to Canada.

“So … with all the, uh, blood-sucking, I’m guessing I’m a vampire now.” Just saying “I’m” and “vampire” together was so ridiculous, I wanted to giggle.

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Vampire Week – Kate Hill

Today to kick off Vampire Week, Kate Hill shares her love of vampires……

Vampires–A Family Tradition by Kate Hill

For as long as I can remember, vampires have been part of my life. As a child I used to watch vampire movies with my mother. She was also a vampire fan. Maybe because I grew up watching vampire movies and reading vampire fiction, I never found them particularly frightening, but I always found them intriguing.

I like the idea of their extended lives and I love their physical strength. While I enjoy many characteristics of traditional vampires, I also like stories that take liberties with the legends surrounding them.

As a reader and a writer, I prefer stories in which vampires are not inherently evil and I also love the idea of vampires as aliens or another species instead of supernatural monsters. In my books, vampires are like humans in that some are good, some are bad and others fall somewhere in between.

For me vampire stories are an irresistible contradiction. They’re exciting yet comfortable and seamlessly blend romance, erotica and horror, sometimes with a touch of science fiction.

My latest series of vampire books is called Bloody or Nothing. It’s set in my Blood and Soul vampire world. In the first Bloody or Nothing book, called Sudsy, a vampire drag queen who protects Las Vegas from vampiric crime teams up with a handsome singer whose affair with an up and coming mixed martial artist threatens his life. Sudsy and his new lover join a fight against an evil bent on taking over the world.

The following excerpt is from Sudsy, available from Changeling Press.

Thank you for looking and thanks for having me on your blog, Silvia!

Excerpt from BLOODY OR NOTHING: SUDSY by Kate Hill
From Changeling Press

Julian rose and approached. He wore another simple black shirt open halfway down his chest. Sudsy longed to stroke those curly dark hairs dusting his pecs and take a closer look at Julian’s interesting tattoo of roses.

“Different look,” Julian said, his gaze searching Sudsy’s face, then sliding down his chiseled chest in the snug tank and lingering on the bulge in the front of his trousers. When he was in drag no one had a clue exactly how well endowed Sudsy was. “I like it.”

Sudsy cocked an eyebrow, as if to say who asked. This didn’t seem to intimidate Julian in the least.

The singer stepped even closer and added, “I like it a lot.”

“So the rumors about you are true?”

“Which ones?”

“The ones that say you swing both ways?”

A few of the local gossip columns had made mention of Julian’s bisexual tendencies.

A smile tugged at Julian’s adorable lips. The top one curved into a delicate bow, but the lower one was full and enticing. Sudsy longed to nip and suck it.
“Partially true.”

“Oh.” Sudsy stepped away and turned to the balcony where he looked out at the city lights. “I see.”

Seconds later, Julian’s hand fell lightly on Sudsy’s shoulder. Sudsy turned to him. Their burning gazes locked and this time Julian stood so close that their lips almost touched.

“Playing along with the bi rumors helps my career. I have a fair share of female fans and women love to flirt, you know.”

Sudsy smiled. “Naughty boy.”

“I’ll show you just how naughty I can be, if you let me.”

Julian’s face dipped even closer, but Sudsy stepped back and placed a hand to the mortal’s chest. He’d meant the gesture to stop any further contact, but that was a very bad idea. Beneath Julian’s warm, hair-dusted flesh, he felt the mortal’s heartbeat and its quickness told him the man was truly aroused, not just offering payback or prepayment for the business deal they’d discussed. Not to mention the scent of his lust didn’t lie.

Julian drew a deep breath and hesitation glistened in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ve had a long night, Julian, and you’re still healing. Not to mention we need to talk business.”

“Yes. Business. If you think I’m trying to bargain for a better offer–”

Sudsy narrowed his eyes. “You’re good at getting what you want, aren’t you, Julian?”

At that comment, Julian laughed sardonically. “Yeah I’m great at getting what I want. I’m unemployed, unattached and recovering from a stab wound. Everything is going exactly as I planned.”

Sudsy folded his arms across his chest and sighed deeply. This guy got to him and that could be either wonderful or dangerous.

“I’ll be glad to help, if you tell me what happened because I don’t believe for a second you were mugged.”

“Why would I lie?”

Shrugging, Sudsy said, “People have lots of reasons to lie. I don’t think you’re into anything illegal.”

“I’m not.”

“Then maybe it’s someone you care about–someone you’re trying to protect?”

The look in Julian’s eyes and the sudden skip of a heartbeat told Sudsy he was close to the truth. Sudsy was an excellent judge of character. He’d possessed that gift long before becoming a vampire.

“Whoever it is, are you certain he or she is worth risking your life for?”

Julian didn’t reply and for several long moments they stared at each other, Sudsy willing the mortal to confess and Julian holding strong against the vampire’s hypnotic gaze. Very few mortals could endure a vampire’s probing stare without surrendering, but despite Julian’s pretty boy appearance, he emanated underling toughness. He was a complex man and one Sudsy wanted to know better.

“I’ve had a long night,” Sudsy said. “And I need to get some sleep.”

When he headed for the door, Julian’s long fingers curved snugly around his upper arm. Sudsy glanced at his hand then met Julian’s piercing gaze.

“Sleep here,” Julian said, his voice soft but commanding. Another smile tugged at Sudsy’s lips. Julian aroused him to a feverish level, but no one gave Sudsy orders.

“Do you know what you’re asking for, stud?” Sudsy asked.

In reply, Julian tugged Sudsy closer and covered his mouth in a searing kiss.

Damn. In his long, long life no one had ever kissed him like this.

About Kate Hill

What do trips around the world, endless nights of breathtaking sex, and a muscular, 6-foot 3-inch, brown-haired, blue-eyed significant other have to do with Kate Hill? Absolutely nothing, but she can dream, can’t she? In reality Kate is a single vegetarian New Englander who loves writing romantic fantasies.

Currently, she might not be traveling around the world, but Kate has visited Europe and Africa and those beautiful places have been wonderful inspiration for her writing. While working at various times as a clerk, assistant karate instructor, house painter and banker, Kate dreamed of being an author. In 1996 her first short story was accepted for publication and since then she has sold over ninety short stories, novellas and novels.

When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out, and researching vampires and Viking history. Visit Kate online.

Interview with Kate Hill

Today the lovely Kate Hill is here to answer some questions about her writing. Kate is the author of books filled with yummy vampires, delightful shapeshifters and more……

What genre(s) do you write? Do you have a favorite genre or one that’s easiest to write?
I write erotic, paranormal, sci-fi and historical romance. I’ve also written some traditional romance. My favorite is paranormal. For me it’s a little easier than other genres because I enjoy it so much.

What type of hero is most appealing to you?
I love an antihero or a villain turned hero. Golden or sweet heroes can be great too, but generally I go for the “bad” boy. Depending on your point of view, the villain of a story can easily become the hero and vice versa.

Do you have a favorite book or character among those you’ve written?
Honestly, I don’t think I can choose only because every book has parts about it I truly love and parts about it that drove me crazy during the writing process. It’s the same with characters. Some characters I feel very close to are Vincent and Matthew from my Ancient Blood series, Xenos from Moonlight on Water, Sir William from The Mad Knight’s Bride, and Rory and Lao from Bloody or Nothing.

What is the best book you’ve read in the last few months?
I actually read this book in 2010, but it left a big impression on me. I thought the characters were really likeable and the story touched me. The book is called Willow Bend by Ally Blue.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
I enjoy working out, reading and watching horror and action movies.

Describe your latest release.

My latest release is Rough, Tough and Tumble: Hung at Dawn. It’s about three alien shapeshifters who are forced into a time travel experiment. Their first stop is the old west. During their adventures they find out about each other and start to fall in love while helping a town that’s threatened by outlaws.

Here’s an excerpt from Rough, Tough and Tumble:Hung at Dawn:

Sometimes Dr. Apriyn focused so intently on his work that he neglected his baser needs. Just because he obsessed about his projects didn’t mean he lacked the same sexual desires as other men. Today’s passionate interlude was a necessary part of his plan, but he still enjoyed himself tremendously.

His post as a general medical examiner in the Aspectian capital city meant he had many opportunities to find the people needed for his experiment. He required three highly skilled Aspectians who were familiar with Earth languages and had strong survival instincts but lacked family connections or prominent positions in society. In short, he needed competent people who could easily disappear. That seemed impossible, but not if one knew where to look.

Dr. Apriyn didn’t need pillars of society. In fact for the dark, perilous science he dabbled in, he required people equally dangerous, seductive and powerful.

Most people wouldn’t consider a pleasure shifter for such work, but when he met Zandra last month, he knew she was perfect for the task. Further study of the young woman proved him right.

Now he stretched out on the satin covered bed in the pleasure house where she worked. He watched her comb her long, chestnut hair. He’d requested she keep her true form during their appointment, and she willingly obliged.

Here on the planet Aspectia, some inhabitants possessed the gift of shapeshifting. The planet was named for these magnificent beings called Aspectians. Dr. Apriyn, though born here, was a non-shifter, identical to an Earth human. Still his shifter cousins fascinated him.

“You told me what form you want me in,” Zandra said, gazing at him through brown eyes trimmed with thick, dark lashes. Though she’d grown up on the streets, her eyes weren’t hard like so many others Apriyn had seen. “And you asked me to brush my hair.”

“You look beautiful when you brush your hair,” he said. Nothing turned him on more than the sight of a naked woman brushing her long hair. He loved the silkiness of her tresses and the gentle bounce of her full breasts.

“What else do you want?” she asked.

“I want to touch you,” he said in a husky voice. His heartbeat quickened and his cock swelled, poking against the red sheet that covered him from the waist down. He reached beneath and stroked himself, his gaze still fixed on Zandra.

“Here, let me help.” She placed her brush on the night table and climbed beneath the sheets. Her lush body half draped over his, she used the sole of her foot to rub his calves while her hand curled around his cock. His eyes narrowed and his pulse quickened.

Zandra’s thumb swept over his cock head and teased the ultra sensitive underside. As good as this felt, he wanted to touch her back. He hungered for sex, though as a non-shifting male he rarely nabbed the attention of other Aspectians. They generally preferred their own kind, yet here in the underground, pleasure shifters fucked anyone for the right price.

Dr. Apriyn had paid to use Zandra tonight, but she had no idea the bonus he would soon offer.

Learn More about Kate at her website.