Welcome to Mid Week Tease. Thanks to the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino, who created this weekly fun, myself and other author friends post a little something for you, the readers, from some of our published works, up-and-coming releases, and WIP (Works in Progress).
Meet the cast of my upcoming February 6th release of Rise of the Lost Prince.
They fight to protect those who would never welcome them into the human world...
Petúr is the leader of the Lost Boys – A Seelie Sidhe Fae who can fly and is an all around badass. Expert in combat.
Wyndi Darlinghart – Human. Her father is the rich business tycoon Cromwell Darlingheart who owns the ruins of the abandoned seaside amusement park Neverland.
Bell – A Demi-Fae who can fly, glamour people, and can transform into a bird or butterfly.
Vibe – A Seelie Sidhe Fae of the order of Delphi. He is an empath with the ability to change someone’s thoughts/moods.
Dash- A Seelie Sidhe Fae. He is a teleporter who can teleport people and objects.
Firefox - An elemental Agni. He wields/controls fire.
Tera & Byte are The Techno Twins – Part Fae and part something not yet known. They can hack computers with the power of their mind and make tech weapons.
Vapor – An elemental of water. An Undine. He can pull water particles from the atmosphere and dissolve to become a murky fog.
Grapple the Dark – Grapple - a.k.a. Grappling Hook - Unseelie Sidhe Fae. He was a healer who was banished from the Royal Court for his dark dabbling after he took a demoness for a lover. He created darkling’s—the ghoulish magical offspring with a demon who can step into a human’s body and feed until they take the human soul.
Kros – Unseelie Sidhe Fae – The only Fae-born son of Grapple who was transformed into a darkling and who can take darkling form and Fae form.
Ariette – Demoness of nightmares and shadows.
Release: February 6, 2015
Word Count: 32K
Genre: M/F Erotic Romance, Paranormal, Fairytale, Fantasy, Action/Adventure, Gothic
Warning: Voyeurism, Violence
Her long lashes fluttered, causing spiky shadows to stipple the tops of her cheeks. “I forgot my laptop. I need to get it from my office,” she said. “That’s where I was going when I got mugged.”
“Here you go,” said Dash. He’d gathered up the woman’s things and tucked them back into her purse. “I don’t think he got anything.” He handed the tan bag over to her. “I think we interrupted the mugger. Petúr tried to catch him, but he got away.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking her scuffed-up purse.
“It’s a good thing we were walking past this alley,” said Vibe. “We heard you scream and—”
“Yes,” she said in a robotic voice, nodding. “You scared off the mugger.” She was looking at Petúr in that unseeing, vacant way, the pupils in her eyes large and pulsing.
He inclined his head. “Here,” he said. “Let me help you up.” He gave her his hand. She took hold, and he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the petal softness of her skin. After she was steady on her feet, he thought to introduce himself. No need to be uncivilized. “I’m Petúr.” He pointed to his right. “That’s Vibe.” Vibe gave her a two finger salute. Petúr tilted his head to his left. “And that’s Dash.”
“I’m Wyndi,” she said, her voice becoming less animated. “Wyndi Darlingheart.”
“Of Darlingheart Incorporated?” Petúr asked.
She brushed a few strands of hair from her face. “In a roundabout way.”
What did that mean?
“Roundabout?” Dash asked the question he himself was dying to know.
She glanced at Dash and kept her gaze trained on him for a long moment. A too long moment. Something hot and possessive twisted in Petúr’s gut. He wanted to reach out and turn her pointed little chin back in his direction, away from the other warrior.
“Cromwell Darlingheart is my father,” she said.
That piece of information got the muscle in Petúr’s jaw to working and quickly stamped out the unusual possessiveness he’d been experiencing.
“Father?” he asked, needing the confirmation one more time.
She nodded and looked up. Her sky-blue gaze went to his mouth then flitted up to his eyes, locking with him. She gasped.
The woman welded her beautiful eyes shut and muttered, “Nothing.”
Could she be afraid of him? No. He didn’t think it was fear he saw swimming in the depths of those liquid blue pools. More like realization of him, mixed with feminine lust.
His golden gaze meandered over her, catching on her cleavage a moment, before moving on to the shape of her hips. Curvaceous. He cleared his throat. Her long lashes fluttered open. Unable to help himself, he was staring at her spectacular face once again. She worked her bottom lip over with her teeth.
She was an oddly captivating, deliciously sweet smelling, eye sparkling female with a mouth he wanted to taste. Taste? Really? He mulled that over for a moment. Yes. He wanted... No. What he was experiencing was more than mere want. He needed to taste her. All of her, he realized taken aback.
He’d been with numerous women before in a quick, rough coupling just to satisfy his animalistic desires, however he was having thoughts he’d never had. Animalistic, yes, but….
He studied her, the arch of her brows, the way strands of her hair framed her face. How delicate she was compared to him. Wyndi Darlinghart. He allowed her name—the daughter of the rich scum-sucking asshole who’d purchased Neverland, intent on clearing the land, as well as him and the lost boys out of their home—to simmer.
Her sweet cotton candy scent assaulted his nose once more. His dick stirred beneath the leather of his D-ring jeans. Would she melt in his mouth like the candy would? His brow furrowed. What was wrong with him? He took in another deep breath, allowing her bouquet to linger. Maybe the ache would go away if he just tasted those full lips. No. He shook his head in an attempt to shake away the urge.
Seconds ticked by. Damn it. He couldn’t shake off what he was feeling. His eyes narrowed. Of all the women in the world, why did it have to be this woman he seriously wanted to thoroughly enjoy in a slow, lingering manner?
Because fate is a cruel bitch. That’s why.
“She’s a Darlingheart,” he heard Vibe say.
No. Not say, but project inside his head.
“Right,” he mumbled, but when Wyndi’s eyelids fluttered open, and she locked gazes with him once more, all the hardened steel he’d erected around himself, as well his common sense, fell away.
Crazy though it might well be, Petúr found himself, for the first time in his long life, wishing for more. More time with her. He wanted to talk, and touch, and kiss. Shit. He wanted to kiss her so bad he physically hurt.
He broke the eye contact this time, and turned away. Who was he kidding? He might want more than fast, anonymous, no strings attached sex, but he wasn’t a choirboy either. For what he had in mind, there would be strings. Maybe even ropes.
“We’ll walk you to your office,” Petúr said, unwilling to let her out of his sight, as he tried to tell himself the over-protectiveness was necessary, even though darklings never attacked the same person twice.
“Um…” Wyndi muttered.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye. “That’s where you said you were headed, right?”
“Yes.” She straightened her shoulders and took the lead.
Petúr homed in on the sway of those hips as she walked in front of him. Oh yeah. He might want more. More than he’d ever given or received from any other woman, yet he also wanted to strip this little human, go to his knees, and map her feminine folds with his mouth, listening to her call out his name in a breathy entreaty as he tasted her pleasure upon his tongue.