Friday, January 14, 2011

Beastly Passion Debuts Today at Ellora's Cave

Hi everyone:
I'm so excited. My first dragon/shifter erotic story debuts today with Ellora's Cave. I loved writing about dragons, especially a strong queen dragon who believes duty and honor are the way to rule while giving up passion. She must learn to embrace her passion if she hopes to save her planet. I know I'm going to write another dragon/shifter story because it was such fun taking on the form of a dragon and researching them delighted my 12 year-old. Below is a pg excerpt for Beastly Passion and I hope you enjoy.

Shards of ice nestled into her heart, followed by a torrential flush of melting heat. She gasped. Her body quaked with desire.

The lightweight silk sheet brushed her skin…a tangle of unfocused thirst and mind-numbing want caused her legs to involuntarily buck off the covering. Her hand slid down her throat, a sensual sweep as foreboding and significant as the rising temperature of her skin. Light fingertips skimmed over breasts, playing with the rose-colored peaks of her nipples until she answered the throb—the call and pulse that heated and thrummed through her entire body. Her fingers delved into her wet, soft folds of inviting flesh.

Honey-warm nectar lubricated her fingers. She used them like drumsticks…focused to the call of the song her body recognized at the molecular level. The rhythm and intensity of an ancient, inherent part of her evolution that yearned for her body to change, fly and soar through the realms of her tightly controlled consciousness. Her breath quickened to a fiery puff of soft, gray smoke. A singe of torrid heat caused her to move her fingers out of her sheath to tweak her hard-as-polished-stone nub. Her body, spirit and mind fractured—levitating her to that other plane of existence she fought daily to avoid.

The shift, instant. White-hot fire engulfed her spirit, mind and body. The flame morphed to solidify into what she truly was—dragon. Gone was the woman—discarded and chained away—so that the dragon beast with the long, golden-hued leathery wings stretched. She sought the heat of her thoughts. Clarity. Large, clawed talons pivoted on the marble floor. Her spiked tail slid into position behind her, but when her head swiveled to the front with the mirrors blanketing her gaze she froze. The vision of her new reality snared her like a cage of old. She caught dragon thoughts that yearned for the feel of sky and the need for the moisture-drenched orange clouds that radiated warmth from the moons.

She leashed those traitorous thoughts and screamed, squelching fire that threatened to spew forth. Instantly, she chastised her body for the lust of desire while her rational mind absorbed the impact of what had dared to happen. Shaking, she shifted back into a woman, and grasped the sheet that had fallen to the floor. The cool silk material was exactly what she needed to ground her. Anchor her.
The large, wide iron-fitted door to the chamber gave a mighty creak as it was forced open. Geirsson, her captain-at-arms, stormed in, armed and ready, followed by her maidservant.

“Get out!” Maeja didn’t care that her manner was totally uncharacteristic. She had mastered the art of being in control, as serene as polished steel. Maeja was born with beastly emotions, but they would not control her. She would not allow that to happen. No one knew what a struggle that had become of late. Evidence this morning. She hated what she had dared let slip. Shifting into dragon was forbidden. She had been the one to issue that decree. While some of her people objected, the majority saw her reason. Her world, her people were prospering and if they had to hide their true identity then so be it.

Maeja had worked centuries to ensure others saw her the way she wanted them to. It had become such a part of her skin that sometimes she questioned her own identity. Lately, the haunting, wild animalistic urge to shift had become a steady ache. Often she fled to the safety of her chamber. That was exactly what she had done last night after that horrible scene at her annual Harvest Ball.

Geirsson’s eyes darted warrior swift around the room. “You screamed.”

“I did not. Get out.” At least this time I did not yell at them. Maeja regally enveloped the sheet around her and stood. “My clothes, prepare them…but first a bath. And ensure it’s cold, ice cold,” she directed the maid, trying to ignore Geirsson.

The thought of even lukewarm water caressing her skin left her feeling slightly breathless and flushed. She struggled to regain her composure. Pursing her lips together, she hugged her arms. Her maidservant nodded, bowed low and left to do her bidding. Geirsson remained.

“You may leave, Geirsson.”

“I may…may I?”

She fought against the urge to clamp her hands over her ears. His rumbling voice always reminded her of churning stones being teased to become bright, polished gems, something her beast loved. This morning its intensity was doubled, leaving her with the oddest urge to rub her body up against his. I did not succumb to his charms years ago and I most certainly will not now.

Geirsson looked down at the floor. Two long gouges bore evidence to her swift transformation. She said a silent prayer of thanks when he simply walked over them. Then he edged forward to where she stood. She blinked. What was he doing?

“Fare thee well, my lady?”

He knows. Her nostrils flared, inhaling and tasting his scent. Woodsy smoke mixed with salt, sand and the metallic taste of jewels and minerals sailed into her. She knew he caught the slight, ever so infinitesimal inhalation on her part. Her anger instantly sparked. The spurt of that churning emotion spewed forth within Maeja and she had to close her eyes against the heat enveloping her rational senses, again. She bowed her head, hoping he would give her a moment to collect her thoughts and clamp down hard on the pebble of desire that threatened to break free. What by the Jewels was happening to her?

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