March Faefever Teaser

V’lane’s knuckles grazed the base of my skull where Barrons had branded me, his eyes narrowed, and he inhaled sharply. "You think to allow his mark upon your body but refuse mine?" he hissed. He closed his mouth over mine.

The great, leathery winged, demonic Unseelie Hunters are especially terrifying to sidhe-seers because they know where we live inside our heads. They instinctively know exactly where to find the small, frightened child in us all and exploit it.

The Seelie princes know where we live, too, but it’s the grown woman they’re after. They hunt us in our own bodies, tracking us without mercy into the darkest corners of our libido. They seduce the Madonna; they celebrate the whore. They serve our sexual needs tirelessly, gorging on our passion, amplifying it, and slamming it back at us a thousand-fold. They are masters of all our desires. They know the limits of our fantasies, take us to the edge and leave us there, hanging by shredded fingernails, above a bottomless gorge, begging for more.

V’lane’s tongue touched mine. Something hot and electric jolted through my mouth. It swelled inside me, filling me. I choked on it, and orgasmed instantly, as hot and electrifying as whatever he’d just done to my tongue. Pleasure ripped through me with such exquisite precision that my bones steamed and turned to water. I would have collapsed, but he took my weight, and I was in a dreamy, surreal place for a few moments, where his laughter was black velvet and his need was as vast as the night, then I was clear and me again.

********************
The first few lines of FAEFEVER

In case you missed January's newsletter, here are the first few lines of FAEFEVER.


I'd die for him.

No, wait a minute...that's not where this is supposed to start.

I know that. But left to my own devices, I'd prefer to skim over the events of the next few weeks, and whisk you through those days with glossed-over details that cast me in a more flattering light.

Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it's those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trials, or fracture by a permanent, damning fault line.
[показать]