Lexxie Couper, Erotic Romance Author

Tuesday’s Teasing Snippet – Guarded Desires

Lexxie Couper — Tue, 14 May 2013 00:54:58 +0000

My Samhain editor has asked me on numerous times to write a m/m. I’ve always been hesitant, not sure I could capture the raw emotion of the genre. But then, a few months ago, a very good friend of mine experienced something they never thought they would: they found themselves attracted to a member of the same sex. My friend had been happily married for over twenty years, so to say the response was a shock is an understatement. It changed everything.

Everything.

Guarded Desires is my friend’s story. Just with more ravenous paparazzi and screaming fans.

It’s available July 14th and today I’m sharing a little teasing snippet.

I hope you enjoy it.

***

Desire like this wasn’t in the script…

Heart of Fame, Book 3

Small-screen sex symbol Chris Huntley is on the fast track to becoming the next big action-blockbuster movie star. When his latest movie takes him to Australia for a red-carpet premiere, he thinks he’s ready for anything.

But nothing could have prepared him for his raw, carnal response to his Aussie bodyguard. Sexual attraction to a man is a first for Chris. Now he realizes why his relationships with women have never felt quite…complete.

Liev Reynolds is comfortable with his bisexuality, but his attraction to Chris is an inconvenience he must ignore. For starters, there’s his professional ethics. Then there’s the long trail of female broken hearts in Chris’s wake.

Hard as they both try to keep their minds on their jobs, desire and a little matchmaking tip them over the edge. But Hollywood endings aren’t real life. And when the truth leaks out, their careers aren’t the only collateral damage.

Product Warnings

A hunky Hollywood sex symbol. A smoldering, stubborn Australian. A desire so powerful it cannot be denied. A kiss. And a photograph. This isn’t your normal boy-meets-boy story.

***

“You okay, mate?”

With a strangled yelp, Chris snapped open his eyes.

Reynolds stood before him. A curious frown furrowed his forehead.

Oh Christ, help me.

The man radiated confident strength, even with his dark blond hair a tousled mess of damp strands. A black polo shirt covered his torso, emphasizing his muscular frame with a subtle perfection Chris had never noticed on another man before. Black denim jeans hugged his long legs, and if it wasn’t for the fact Chris couldn’t stop his gaze lingering at the rather impressive bulge at Reynolds’s crotch, he would have made some wise-ass comment about the fact the bodyguard wasn’t wearing shoes.

But his gaze did linger on Reynolds’s groin. Long enough for the man to clear his throat.

Chris’s gut knotted. Heat flooded his face. Holy fuck. Holy fuck, he’d just been staring at another man’s package.

“Mr. Huntley?”

He jolted to his feet, unable to meet Reynolds’s eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t…geez, I…” Clearing his own throat, he scraped his hands through his hair and forced his stare to Liev’s. “I didn’t mean to, y’know…look…there. It was just at eye level.”

Reynolds’s laugh surprised him. “No worries, mate. I’m used to it.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “You’re used to guys looking at your junk?”

“Well, when you put it like that, no. But I’ve been in the state firefighting charity calendar four years running. When you spend a month on someone’s wall dressed in nothing but a half-unzipped pair of loose work trousers you get used to being checked out. Especially when you make appearances at events to sell those calendars.”

The ball of tension in Chris’s gut didn’t loosen at Liev’s answer. It only made it worse. He’d known the man was a firefighter when he wasn’t working as a bodyguard, but now all Chris could do was picture him half-undressed, glistening with sweat, his hands wrapped around a freaking massive hose jutting out from the region of his groin. Subtlety, it seemed, was not one of Chris’s newly confused brain’s strong points.

Nor was remaining impassive to the thought of Liev. At least, Chris’s cock wasn’t remaining impassive. The stiffening heat in his trousers was enough to make him want to groan.

Damn it, he needed to get laid. By a woman. Fast.

“Want to hit a bar?” The question burst from him before he could stop it.

Liev narrowed his eyes.

Chris puffed out a ragged breath. “I’ve just become an uncle. I need to loosen up.”

A muscle in Liev’s jaw twitched. “Loosen up?”

“Ah, shit,” Chris held out a hand, “no drugs. Honest. My sister would kill me. Hell, Rhodes would kill me. No, I just need to blow off some tension. Do you know a place? Somewhere noisy?”

“I do.” Liev crossed his arms. “But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I took you there. Too accessible to the public. Too easy for you to be swarmed. And then Rhodes would kill me.”

“And I don’t want to lose my new bodyguard before I break him in, right?”

The quip was meant to be just that. A quip. It was what Chris did best—make jokes when things were tense. And things were tense. At least, for Chris they were. But Reynolds didn’t laugh.

He stood motionless, his blue stare holding Chris’s, his jaw clenched. “No. You don’t.”

A lump filled Chris’s throat. His breath choked him. He couldn’t move.

Every fibre in his body strained for the man in front of him. Every nerve-ending sparked with a carnal need he couldn’t understand. His palms itched. His mind told him exactly how smooth and perfect Liev’s muscled arms would feel to touch, how hard his chest would be, how sculpted his abs.

How thick and heavy Liev’s cock would feel in his hand.

Chris stared at him. Into his eyes. Eyes that only a short while ago where unknown to him.

Eyes that revealed nothing.

And yet, the tension hung on the air between them. Chris wasn’t completely naïve. He’d seduced his fair share of women. He knew exactly what sexual tension was. He mastered it on screen. He’d mastered it in the bedroom.

What this was, right now, was sexual tension. Real sexual tension. This was explosive. This was tearing him apart.

This was…this was…fuck, this couldn’t be.

It couldn’t—

Liev’s nostrils flared. He swayed forward, barely. An almost imperceptible movement.

***

Guarded Desires (Heart of Fame Book Three) (Amazon)

Guarded Desires (Heart of Fame Book Three) (Nook)

Sooo, who wants to see what I got up to at the RT Booklover’s Convention?

Lexxie Couper — Mon, 13 May 2013 08:21:40 +0000

Cause if you head on over to HERE, that’s exactly what you can do?

(And yes, the name on the badge I’m wearing DOES say E.L. James. Hee hee hee)

The Foreign Affairs Contest – Week Four

Lexxie Couper — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 12:05:44 +0000

Misplaced Hands releases TODAY! It’s the final book in the Foreign Affairs series and it might just be the hottest of the bunch!

Mari and I have been hosting a red hot dirty excerpts party this month where we shared super spicy snippets from each of our Foreign Affairs books.

And to sweeten the pot, we’ve made a contest of it. The game is simple. Just read the short excerpt from Misplaced Hands below and answer the question. Then boogie over to Mari’s blog to check out another excerpt and find a second question.

Each Wednesday, we’ve featured a different book from the series and asked two questions. TODAY…you can email your 8 answers to carmichm1@yahoo.com to be entered to win.

AND…what’s the prize? It’s an Ellora’s Cave box o’ fun! That’s right–there are all kinds of crazy Ellora’s Cave things (track pants, t-shirt, hats, keychain, post-its, deck of cards, etc) as well as two signed print books–one from Lexxie and another from Mari and a $25 gift card to Amazon. You must email the answers by May 5 to be entered to win!

The first three rounds are live (but it’s not too late to join the fun–just go back to the first blog and hop in now). Today we’re posting snippets from Misplaced Hands.

Foreign Affairs, Book Four

A “life swap” with her Australian friend finds Harper on Farpoint Creek cattle station, resident teacher for the next two weeks. Having rarely left Chicago, she’s unprepared for so many things Down Under—not the least of which is an instant, and instantly intense, attraction to not one, but twoAussie cowboys. She’d promised herself an adventure, so when the handsome pair come calling, Harper dives in. Literally.

Stockmen Keith and Marc are head-over-heels in lust with the American teacher, though the attraction brings about some surprising revelations. Like how right it feels to share a woman. This woman. No jealousy between the lifelong mates, just a burning need to see to Harper’s pleasure. Together. And they happily do so—until an unsettling event unearths Harper’s own tragic revelation.

Between Harper’s inability to confide in the men, and her stay at Farpoint racing to an end, it seems inevitable the three lovers will be driven apart. Doesn’t it?

Inside Scoop: This story has a very brief, non-descriptive recollection of child abuse. Good thing Harper has two strong stockmen to chase away the bad memories.

Excerpt

“It’s Harper I’m here to collect.”

Annie looked at Harper, her expression naughty. “Really now? And what do you plan on doing to Harper once you collect her?”

“Ah, you know us testosterone-filled Aussie blokes when it comes to American women. Take her somewhere private and—”

“Enough, Thomo.” Annie held up a hand, shaking her head. “Just tell me, okay?”

“Swimming,” he answered. “In the eastern billabong.”

Harper’s heart leaped up into her throat. Swimming. She hadn’t packed a bathing suit. Oh God, why hadn’t she packed a bathing suit?

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Annie said. “And it’s my cue to get back to writing. Chapter four isn’t going to revise itself, you know.”

And before Harper could say a word, the other woman rose to her feet and walked past her, out the door. Leaving her alone with Marc.

“So?” His deep voice seemed to envelop her. “You keen for a dip?”

Stealing herself against the inevitable tummy clenching that came at the sight of him, she twisted in her seat.

The tummy clenching came. As she knew it would. How could it not, when he looked so goddamn sexy? His hat was still on his head, its brim throwing a shadow over his brilliant sapphire eyes. His hands were on his hips, accentuating the broad expanse of his chest and the lean tapering of his torso. He was, simply put, sex in denim.

And waiting for her to say something.

“Err…” Her brain went blank. What had he asked?

“Swim?” Marc prompted. “In the billabong? With Blue and I?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” she answered, her cheeks heating again. God, since when did she sound so pathetic and lame?

Marc’s white teeth flashed. “And you think Blue and I do?”

Harper’s belly didn’t just flip-flop. It flip-flopped, sank, knotted and fluttered.

***

Misplaced Hands is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Question: Where does Marc plan to take Harper?

The Foreign Affairs Contest – Week Three

Lexxie Couper — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 12:56:05 +0000

Mari and I will be holding a red hot dirty excerpts party in April! We’ll be sharing super spicy snippets from each of our Foreign Affairs books.

And to sweeten the pot, we’re making a contest of it. The game is simple. Just read the short excerpt from Misplaced Lessons below and answer the question. Then boogie over to Mari’s blog to check out another excerpt and find a second question.

Each Wednesday (April 3, 10, 17, 24), we’ll feature a different book from the series and two more questions. On April 24…you can email your 8 answers to carmichm1@yahoo.com to be entered to win.

The first two rounds are live (and it’s not too late to join the fun–just go back to the first blog and hop in now). Today we’re posting snippets from Misplaced Lessons.

Foreign Affairs, Book Three

A forced-sex fantasy is one thing—waking to find a scruffy man binding you to a bed is quite another. Amy fights him, until she realizes her friend must have set up the sexy scenario. They’ve swapped lives, with Harper flying to Australia and lending her Chicago home to Amy. While she’s surprised Harper would go to such lengths to help her fulfill a fantasy, Amy figures…why not?

After days of nonstop travel, Andrew arrives at the home he shares with his sister, Harper, with sleep on his mind—until he finds a naked intruder in his bed. Subduing the beauty, he assumes she’s the blind date his pal had tried to set him up with. But would Mike actually sneak the woman into Andrew’s house? Seems so. And he’s not one to turn down such a gift.

By the time each has learned the other’s identity, Amy and Andrew have shared the most intense sexual experience of their lives. And they certainly don’t want to stop now.

Inside Scoop: This sexy life-swapping tale includes BDSM with a side of ménage.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt

“Kiss me.” She hadn’t intended to issue the request, but now that the words were out, she wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t want him.

He lifted his head “No. You’re my captive. Tonight, I’m the one who’ll be giving the commands. And you’re going to obey me. Completely.”

Her stomach flipped over. Jesus. Her stranger was playing the dominant card. She didn’t consider herself submissive during the waking hours, but there was a part of her that had always longed to be dominated in bed. She struggled to remember if she’d admitted that desire to Harper. She didn’t think so, but then again, she’d consumed a lot of wine prior to the sex conversation. Perhaps she’d told her friend more than she thought.

“Just don’t expect me to start calling you Master,” she said, purposely trying to tweak him. Test the waters.

He was silent for several breathless moments. “No. I won’t be your Master, but you will call me whatever I tell you to, Amy.”

It was a powerful assertion, spoken with absolute certainty. She briefly debated the wisdom in denying him then took the safer path. “What do you want me to call you?”

“For tonight, you’ll simply refer to me as Sir.”

***

Misplaced Lessons is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Question: What does he tell her to call him?

The Foreign Affairs Contest – Week Two

Lexxie Couper — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 12:56:13 +0000

Mari and I are hosting a red hot dirty excerpts party this month where we are sharing super spicy snippets from each of our Foreign Affairs books.

And to sweeten the pot, we’ve making a contest of it. The game is simple. Just read the short excerpt from Misplaced Cowboy below and answer the question. Then boogie over to Mari’s blog to check out another excerpt and find a second question.

Each Wednesday (April 3, 10, 17, 24), we’re featuring a different book from the series and two more questions. On April 24…you can email your 8 answers to carmichm1@yahoo.com to be entered to win.

The first round started last week (but it’s not too late to join the fun–just go back to the first blog and hop in now) and we’re posting snippets today from Misplaced Cowboy.

Foreign Affairs, Book Two

Flying halfway ’round the world to meet his potential soul mate sounds like a fine idea to Dylan Sullivan—until he discovers said soul mate, Annie, has gone looking for him. In Australia. Now Dylan’s adrift, a bloke from the Outback alone in the bloody big city. Until he’s rescued by Monet, a gorgeous local artist…and Annie’s best friend.

A dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, Monet has never met anyone like Dylan. Taking temporary care of the sizzling-hot cowboy is easy; he’s friendly, funny and interesting. Keeping her hands off him is decidedly not easy. That horny accent, that killer grin…and as a successful artist, Monet is very much a hands-on sort of girl.

Dylan and Monet hold back until they learn Annie is engaged in her own foreign affair in Oz. Then all bets—and clothes—are off. But it can only be a fling. An Aussie cowboy doesn’t belong in New York any more than a city girl belongs in the Outback.

Now if only their hearts would listen.

Excerpt

Monet gaped at him. She’d never gaped at anyone before in her life, but here she was, gaping at Dylan, eyes wide, hands frozen halfway to her face, as if they didn’t know whether to clap together or cover her open mouth.

Oh God, he’d punched the crap out of Phillip.

“Dylan,” she managed, shaking herself out of her stupor. “You can’t just…” She shot a look at Phillip sprawled on the floor. Blood oozed from a cut on his lip, his face a mix of stunned confusion and indignant disbelief.

“I’m going to fucking sue!” he blustered, trying to scramble to his feet. It seemed an exercise in futility, however, when his heels slipped, his ass slapping back to the polished marble floor.

Monet ignored him, swinging her attention to Dylan. “You can’t just…hit someone because you don’t like what they say about you. Not in New York.”

The shadow cast over Dylan’s face from his hat couldn’t hide his incredulous expression. “Hell, love.” He took a step back, shaking his head. “I didn’t hit the bastard ’cause of what he said about me. I hit him because of what he said to you.”

Monet shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you hit him because of me?”

Dylan’s frown turned him into the poster boy for all things rugged and manly. “I don’t care if this is New York, when a bloke insults a woman like Phillip insulted you, a man steps in and shuts him up.”

Monet’s mouth fell open. Again.

He’d defended her honor. The Aussie cowboy just defended her honor.

Is he for—

The thought didn’t even finish forming in her head. It couldn’t. Not when her body took over and propelled her forward.

Straight into his arms. Her lips claiming his.

***

Misplaced Cowboy is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, ARe, Sony and Kobo.

Question: Why did Dylan punch Phillip?

The Foreign Affairs Contest – Week One

Lexxie Couper — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 09:50:55 +0000

Mari and I will be holding a red hot dirty excerpts party in April! We’ll be sharing super spicy snippets from each of our Foreign Affairs books.

And to sweeten the pot, we’re making a contest of it. The game is simple. Just read the short excerpt from Misplaced Princess below and answer the question. Then boogie over to Mari’s blog to check out another excerpt and find a second question.

Each Wednesday (April 3, 10, 17, 24), we’ll feature a different book from the series and two more questions. On April 24…you can email your 8 answers to carmichm1@yahoo.com to be entered to win.

The first round starts today, April 3, and we’re posting snippets from Misplaced Princess.

Foreign Affairs, Book One

Annie Prince has impetuously flown halfway ’round the world to visit a sexy cowboy she met online—only to find herself stranded in Sydney. Seems she and Dylan crossed wires, and he’s on his way to New York. His twin, Hunter, saves the day and whisks her back to the family cattle station. Hunter’s as easy on the eyes as Dylan, and even easier to talk to. Annie might have flown to Oz to meet one brother, but soon sparks are flying with the other.

Hunter considered Dylan a dumb arse for jetting off to America for some stranger—until he met Annie. Turns out the New Yorker is a smart, funny, hard-working jillaroo…and hotter than the Aussie desert. Hunter’s not normally one to poach his brother’s women, but he can’t keep his hands, lips, tongue and other body parts off this sexy city girl.

When raging lust leads to emotional attachment, where does that leave Annie and Hunter when her vacation comes to an end—or when Dylan finds out?

Excerpt

“Who the hell are you?” he asked as they paused in the small hallway that led to the tarmac and his helicopter.

She pulled her hand from his grip and frowned, clearly unhappy about his question. “I told you about my family, Dylan. I warned you this could happen.”

“Love, you didn’t warn me about a damn thing. Why don’t we start at the beginning? I’m Hunter Sullivan.” He stressed his first name. “Now, who are you?”

The woman paled slightly. Hunter was impressed when she recovered quickly. She looked like she’d been run through the wringer but she clearly wasn’t beaten yet.

“You’re Dylan’s brother.”

He nodded. “We’re twins. Obviously.”

Annie studied his face. “Identical.”

He didn’t respond. She clearly knew his brother’s face well enough to know there wasn’t much to distinguish one from the other. Apart from the fact Dylan shaved less than him, they were mirror images. “And now that we’ve determined who I am, who are—”

“Why did you kiss me back there?”

Shit. Hunter was hoping she’d forget that little tidbit. The answer was simple—pure, instant animal attraction. He’d been worked up and horny as shit after his encounter with the blonde in the bar.

What he told her was different, and he tried not to wince at his own cocky, arrogant tone. “When a pretty broad throws herself at me, I’m not likely to refuse.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t throw myself at you. If you were any sort of gentleman, you would have told me who you were right away.”

“Kind of hard to talk when someone’s got their tongue in your mouth.”

“You put your tongue in my mouth first.”

Hunter grinned and took a step closer, looking at her lips once more. He raised his eyebrows as if to say he’d do it again if given the chance.

She glanced at the door they’d just walked through. Hunter could read the indecisiveness on her face. He wondered if she’d subject herself to another dash through the airport with the paparazzi hot on her heels or if she’d tough it out with him. Given his current behavior, he’d choose the cameramen if he was her. He was being a right bloody arsehole.

“Listen, maybe if you told me who you were, I could help you get where you need to be. You’re obviously not from here. American, right?” But as soon as he asked the question, a horrifying reality crashed down on his head. “Annie?”

The woman nodded.

“You’re Dylan’s Annie? From New York?”

****

Misplaced Princess is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, ARe, Kobo, and Sony.

Question: Who is the woman in the excerpt and where is she from?

LGBT Hop! CONTEST!

Lexxie Couper — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:43:06 +0000

LGBT hop! CONTEST!

I’d like to say a HUGE THANKS to the awesome Scorching Book Reviews for holding this LGBT event! You can win GREAT prizes, here and elsewhere just by commenting!

What can you win from my blog? An ebook ARC of the LGBT book I’m featuring, Guarded Desires, my very first m/m erotic romance novel coming July this year from Samhain Publishing.

Desire like this wasn’t in the script…

Heart of Fame, Book 3

Warning: A hunky Hollywood sex symbol. A smoldering, stubborn Australian. A desire so powerful it cannot be denied. A kiss. And a photograph. This isn’t your normal boy-meets-boy story.

Never Before Seen Excerpt

The day that Liev Reynolds told his older brother Ian he was bi-sexual, he’d lost almost everything that was important to him. Ian, older by three years and his only sibling, had told Liev he was sick. Told him he needed help. Told him their parents would be disgusted and thanked bloody God they were dead and not here now to be embarrassed by their youngest son.

From that day, Ian refused to see him or talk to him. The only contact Liev now had with his family was with his brother’s teenage daughter. She didn’t care her uncle slept with both men and women because he took her to the concerts her parents refused to take her to, picked her up from the inner city clubs when she and her friends couldn’t get a taxi, and—in her words—was, “awesome and wonderful and smart and naughty”.

Liev still wasn’t sure what the naughty part meant, but he suspected it had something to do with the fact that deep inside, his dux-of-the-school niece wanted to rebel against her parents’ strict, no-nonsense upbringing. The closest she got to that rebellion was defying her dad’s demands she not interact with her sick uncle.

When all was said and done, Liev didn’t give a rat’s arse what Ian thought, as long as he got to spend time with Caitlin. If his brother cut him off from the only living relative that cared for him…well, then Ian would see just how angry his sick brother could get.

Liev’s sexuality hadn’t stopped him being a highly awarded firefighter. Nor had it stopped him protecting not only the country’s leading politicians but the world’s biggest rock star as well. Acting as one of Nick Blackthorne’s bodyguards whenever he toured Australia was the highlight of Liev’s professional-protector career and more than once he wished he could share the achievement with Ian. They’d both been Blackthorne fans. But the last time Liev had worked alongside Aslin Rhodes in guarding the performer, Ian had hung up before Liev could even say g’day.

Which meant there wasn’t a hope in hell he was going to call his brother and tell him he was now going to be the personal bodyguard of, according to Caitlyn, Ian’s favourite sitcom star. Not a bloody hope in hell.

Nor was he going to tell his brother the American actor was so bloody good-looking it was a wonder Liev’s cock didn’t burst free of his jeans. Fuck, he’d hoped this wasn’t going to happen again. Seems like he’d hoped in vain.

He’d never told Aslin Rhodes he’d been sexually aroused by Chris when Rhodes had asked him to watch over Chris when the actor had been in Australia last year. There hadn’t been a need. He hadn’t met Chris, just guarded him from a distance, as instructed by Rhodes. Rhodes trusted him. They’d worked side by side numerous times. Rhodes knew he was bi and didn’t care.

What would his friend say if he knew Liev was now standing in the actor’s living room, doing his best to appear nonchalant when he was really wondering what the man’s cock would feel like in his hands? In his mouth?

What it would feel like to penetrate the actor’s arse and fuck him senseless?

Bloody hell, this was a first for Liev. Men turned him on, just as much as women, but never ones who were famous for their scorching heterosexuality. And when it came to heterosexuality, Chris Huntley was as scorching as they came.

Fuck it.

“How long have you known Aslin for?”

Chris’s question yanked Liev out of his disquieting contemplation. Slipping his hands into his jeans’ front pockets, he smiled at the actor. “Eight years. We both worked out at the same gym whenever he was in Sydney. One day, the support bodyguard Rhodes used when Nick Blackthorne was in the country was unavailable and Rhodes asked if I’d be interested.”

“So you are used to guarding celebrities then?” a familiar female voice asked.

Liev turned to face the little bundle of fiery-red proficiency beside him. He’d shared numerous conversations with Chris Huntley’s personal assistant since Rhodes recommended him for this job. Bethany Sloan was clipped, precise and efficient. And nothing like he’d expected her to look. She looked like she belonged in a fantasy book about fairies and sprites. If fairies and sprites carried smartphones and iPads and moved with economical poise and determination, that was. There was a tightly contained sensuality about her Liev found intriguing. “I am.” He offered the P.A. a reassuring smile. “Groupies and fans don’t worry me much. I’ve also already spent some time guarding Mr. Huntley.”

“You have?”

Liev swung back to the actor, steadying himself against the churning heat in his gut looking at the American caused. “When you were here last year filming Dead Even. Rhodes asked me to watch over you while he was trying to find the person responsible for the attempts on your sister’s life.” He grinned. “From a distance, mind you. He was very adamant about that. No one was to know I was there.”

The actor ran a slow inspection over him, from head to toe and back again. Liev resisted the urge to shift his feet. The scrutiny was ambiguous but unsettling all the same. If Liev wasn’t careful his bloody dick would give away how unsettling. “Well, you did a good job,” Chris said, narrowing his eyes as he studied Liev’s face. “I don’t recognize you at all. And I know I’d—” He stopped. “And I don’t forget a face.”

Liev accepted the compliment with a nod of his head. The actor had intended to say something else, but what? “Thanks, mate.”

“So you think you’re the right man for the job?”

Bethany’s calm question sent an unexpected finger of tight anticipation down Liev’s spine. Whether it was because of his sexual attraction to her boss or the fact she had a thoroughly sexy American accent, he wasn’t sure. With the way his body was behaving, he was beginning to think this job wasn’t a good idea after all. The pay was phenomenal for seven days work. But was it worth walking around with a semi for the duration?

It would be so much easier if he were in some kind of steady, committed relationship. But he didn’t do steady, committed relationships.

Giving Bethany a wide grin, he nodded again. “I’m the man for the job. Aslin Rhodes wouldn’t have recommended me if I wasn’t.”

“That’s true,” Chris said. “When it comes to protecting those he loves, Rhodes is almost manic.” The actor pulled a face. “That sounded much more impressive and far less weird in my head.”

Liev laughed.

Chris grinned.

Liev wished he hadn’t. The man’s smile was everything Liev liked in the expression. It showed off Chris’s white, even teeth. It formed tiny laugh lines at the edges of his brilliant-blue eyes. It hinted at a shallow dimple in his left cheek. It was relaxed, cheeky and infectious, and Liev knew he was going to have a hard bloody time not picturing it later that night in the shower.

And in bed.

Yeah, taking this job probably wasn’t a good idea at all.

“May I get you a coffee, Mr. Reynolds?”

Liev dragged his gaze from Chris’s face to focus on Bethany again. She was studying him with an ambiguous expression, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“Or a beer? A drink?” she went on. “The bar is fully stocked and I am quite proficient at mixing any drink you’d like.”

“Bethany is quite proficient at everything,” Chris said, dropping into the sofa. He rested his calf on his knee, stretching his arms along the back of the piece of furniture. “She has my days planned down to the last second.” He tossed his personal assistant a quick smirk. Liev couldn’t miss the warm affection in the look. “When am I going to the bathroom next, Bethany?”

Bethany flicked the slim gold watch on her wrist a look. “In two hours and fifty-four minutes, Mr. Huntley.”

Chris grinned at Liev again. “See?”

“That drink, Mr. Reynolds?”

Liev shook his head. “Thanks, but no. A coffee will be fine. I’m a teetotaler.”

“Really?”

Liev returned his focus to Chris, his chest squeezing a little at the actor’s relaxed sensuality. “My parents were killed by a drunk driver when I was young. It had a profound effect on me.”

Chris’s expression turned dark. “I know what it’s like to lose your mom and dad. It sucks.”

Liev nodded. “It does.”

A strained silence stretched across the room, made all the more tight by the way Chris’s stare held Liev’s. Liev knew about the murder of Chris’s parents twenty years ago. Aslin had filled him in on the situation in preparing him for the job. It was one of the reasons Chris didn’t like being swarmed by fans, one of the reasons he preferred to remain out of the public whenever possible. The guy may be one of the funniest men on television, but when it came to his personal life he was a homebody.

Liev liked that.

What’s that mean? You sizing him up for something more than just being your boss? Ha. You’re deluded, dickhead.

***

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The First Chapter of Dark Embrace

Lexxie Couper — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 08:57:42 +0000

Dark Embrace, my long-time-coming return to dark, often violent, definitely dangerous paranormal erotic romance releases on Tuesday. So I thought I’d share with you all the first chapter. Now there’s a prologue that goes before this chapter which reveals something about Dark Destiny (nothing too spoliery) but I thought I’d just tease you today with the opening chapter.

Enjoy…

Chapter One

Today

A prickling sensation itched the back of Inari Chayse’s neck. Something was watching her. She spun, staring hard at the people moving over the busy Kings Cross sidewalk. Tourists entranced by the gaudy beauty and bright lights of Sydney’s most debauched suburb weaved in and out of impatient locals for whom the lights were nothing more than a way to illuminate the crowded sidewalk. None paid Inari any attention. Well, apart from a few appreciative glances from more than one man, but those she expected. It came with the succubus genes. But the prickling sensation on the back of her neck, like a thousand fire ants nipping at her flesh, only happened when a non-human was about—an early warning system courtesy of her Principatus soul.

She scanned the ebb and flow of pedestrians around her. Nothing.

Facing forward again, she continued through the crowd, refocusing her senses on the vampire she’d tracked for the past fifteen minutes. He’d been feeding on tourists for over a week now, picking off easy targets like backpackers and party-goers too drunk and unfamiliar with the suburb to realize they’d wandered from the busy main thoroughfares into the quiet, dimly lit backstreets. The trail of drained bodies he’d left in the alleys and gutters after sunset sickened her, and she’d had him on her target list long before the Powers sent her the command to deal with him. Tonight, his feeding frenzy would come to an end.

Quickening her pace, she pushed through the crowd. It had been too long since she’d had some action. The paranormal population in Sydney had been behaving itself of late, which meant she’d been bored. Restless.

Is that the only reason, Inari? Or does it have something to do with the fact you haven’t had sex in twenty years?

Inari ground her teeth, the blunt thought unsettling. When the Powers kept her busy, she didn’t have time to think about her self-imposed lack of a sex life. Killing this bloodsucker tonight would take some of the edge off.

And then what? What do you do if you aren’t given any orders for another six months? There are only so many times you can masturbate before you have to do something about the situation. For God’s sake, you’re an ex-succubus who dreams about having sex with a master vampire you’ve never met. Killing this bloodsucker is all well and good, but why are you dreaming about sex with another one?

She grunted at the humiliating thought. She didn’t want to think about her dreams now. They were too disturbing. It was as if with every second she denied herself sex her body demanded it more. With every night that passed without sexual release, the succubus she once was edged closer to physical control of her body and soul.

Once was? Or still am?

A dry snort sounded at the back of her nose. If only she knew she could have sex without the risk of draining her partner. She’d queried the Powers since her rebirth, but of course they’d yet to answer her.

She shook her head and lengthened her stride. What she had to do was quit the self-pity and deal with it. Plenty of people existed without sex—nuns, priests, eunuchs… She needed to get over it, tell her body to shut the fuck up, ignore the ache in the pit of her belly and concentrate on what she’d been reborn to do—kill monsters.

Zeroing her senses in on the tourist-snacking vampire—one such monster overdue to be terminated—she smiled. He’d walked this very sidewalk only a few minutes earlier. His filth still hung on the air, his soulless rot like a slick film of decay coating every breath she drew into her being. She was close. Very close.

Pumping her fingers into loose fists, she turned a corner, the flashing lights and sounds of Kings Cross fading behind her. She moved quickly, almost running down the dim street, past silent houses and closed shops. Her Principatus force stirred within, eager for release, the putrid scent of the vampire feeding it. Her skin tingled and her muscles burned, but she squashed the transformation before it took hold of her. The last thing she needed was some unsuspecting human stumbling upon her in her other form. To put it mildly, it would scare the hell out of them. Besides, she’d only just bought the leather pants she currently wore. She really wasn’t ready to have them stretched beyond repair, thank you very much. Nor did she want the classic Iron Man T-shirt hugging her torso torn as her wings burst from her—

A muffled cry halted that line of thought, and Inari stiffened, her skin prickling with increasing heat. Curse it. The bastard had someone.

Hurry.

The vampire’s scent flooded into her soul and she broke into a sprint. Another cry fell in the quiet night, this one not so muffled but far weaker. Whoever the bloodsucker was feeding on, they were running out of time.

Hurry. Now.

Rounding the corner, she pushed herself faster, past the sleeping houses, the empty cars, her pulse pounding in her ears, her senses locked on the vamp.

She finally saw him.

He had a man pressed to the front fender of an RV, one hand gripping the squirming human’s groin, the other fisted in his dreadlocked hair, holding his head back so his neck bowed in a violent curve, granting greater access to the blood-rich jugular beneath his exposed skin. Inari absorbed the sight in a heartbeat, noting the stunned disbelief on the man’s face, his flailing arms, the blood trickling down his throat like a line of liquid life turned black by the darkness of the street.

She bit back a savage snarl and threw herself forward.

Her shoulder hit the vampire hard, slamming into the side of his head. Hot blood splattered Inari’s arm as the impact yanked the bloodsucker’s fangs from the man’s throat. A gurgling scream ripped through the air, but she kept her focus on her target. Vampires never died easily; they were always too stupid to accept their fate.

This one, it seemed, was particularly dumb.

He fought against her, smashing a fist into her jaw even as they hit the asphalt in front of the car. Black stars erupted in her head, but she ignored the pain, springing to her feet before he could land another blow. He jack-knifed himself up off the road, fangs bared, chin and lips glistening with blood, demonic stare locked on her face. “Gonna fuck you—”

Inari snapped out a swift sidekick before he could finish, aiming her booted heel for his unbeating heart.

The vampire jerked to the right, blocking her kick, his arm swinging in a dark blur to strike her ankle with a crunching blow. White pain shot up her leg, but Inari didn’t falter. She spun into a back kick, driving her heel high against his chest. He flailed backward, face distorting in stunned fury.

And turned and fled down the street.

“At least he’s smart enough to know he should run away,” she muttered, fixing his back with a level stare. She flicked the human crumpled on the sidewalk a quick look, grim relief filling her at the sight of his moving chest. She’d reached him just in time. Now to end the vampire’s existence.

She took off after the escaping vamp, her own speed matching his. Which meant she’d hurt him when she’d crash-tackled him to the road. Unless she transformed into her Principatus form, she couldn’t outrun a vamp. No matter how many hours she spent working out at the gym.

Focus locked on the sprinting—albeit, sprinting with a limp—vampire, she pushed more power into her legs, letting the force of her assassin’s soul seep into her muscles. Blistering heat surged through her, scalding the walls of her veins, scorching the cells of her body. And still she ran faster, holding back the Principatus buried within her even as she leached its power, drawing closer to the fleeing vampire. Closer.

She leapt without a sound, landing on his back and driving him to the ground a second before he could cut right and disappear into a narrow, unlit alley.

He hissed, but the furious sound was cut short as she snatched a fistful of his hair and smashed his face against the sidewalk. Again and again. He flailed beneath her, scrabbling at her wrists, his fingers turning into claw-tipped talons with every swipe. She snarled, ducking each one. Curse it, if she wasn’t careful he’d rip her T-shirt.

Then stop messing around, woman.

She slammed his head to the ground once more, drove her knees between his shoulder blades and snagged his left wrist with her right hand. “This is going to hurt, fucker.” She yanked his arm to the side, pulling it until his armpit was stretched taut.

“Going to kill you, bitch,” he blustered, writhing under her knees. He was strong even with his injury. But Inari was stronger.

And seriously ticked off.

“Yeah, yeah.” She curled her lip, jerked his arm a little straighter and ground her weight into his back. “Whatever.”

She closed the fingers of her left hand around the grip of the long, silver dagger sheathed in the lining of her boot, withdrew it in a single, fluid motion and sank it to the hilt into the vampire’s armpit. Straight into the side of his unbeating heart.

A screeching wail tore from the vamp’s throat. He thrashed once, twice and then Inari was kneeling on the footpath, a man-shaped smudge of oily dust staining the concrete under her knees.

“Eww.” She crinkled her nose, the stench of instantly decomposed vampire turning the air putrid. Climbing to her feet, she slid her dagger back into its hidden sheath and stepped away from the residue of terminated vamp. “Why are bloodsuckers always so smelly?”

She bent at the waist, casting a disgusted look at the knees of her leather trousers, and straightened immediately when the back of her neck prickled with heat.

Someone was watching her. Again.

Demon.

The word whispered through her head. She squinted into the blackness around her, seeing nothing. Why would she? It was one in the morning on a moonless night, and she was standing on the sidewalk of a quiet side street far from the bright, flashing lights of the main strip. Not even the ten-buck hookers and crack users wandered so far into Kings Cross suburbia. She was alone on the street, surrounded by silent houses, sleeping cars and the low drone of hungry mosquitoes.

And yet…

The Principatus force within her stirred. Agitated. Alert.

Wary.

Inari turned on the spot, scanning the darkness. The back of her neck prickled again, stronger this time. Hotter.

She narrowed her eyes, not for the first time wondering why the hell God had deigned to create a demon assassin capable of incomparable physical prowess without electing to add hyper-vision.

“Shit.”

Her muttered curse fell into the silence. She turned once more, her neck on fire, her gut churning. Someone was watching her, but whoever they were, they were keeping themselves hidden.

She didn’t like it. Not at all.

“What are you waiting for?” She held her arms wide, her call bouncing off the houses around her.

A bird flew out of a nearby tree, the wild beating of its wings making Inari jump. She bit back another curse, shaking her head. Fuck this. If the demon wasn’t going to show its face, she had other things to—

The fiery prickles on the back of her neck vanished. Just like that.

Inari frowned, far from relieved. “What the hell?”

She stood motionless, half expecting an attack, half convinced she’d imagined the whole thing. Something felt off. Wrong.

The night stayed silent around her. Not even the sound of the startled bird returning to its roost destroyed the stillness.

Inari let out a sharp sigh and stared into the darkness around her one last time. Nothing. With a shake of her head, she turned and ran up the road, back to the bright lights of the sexual capital of Australia. She’d make an anonymous call to the paramedics from a payphone, tell them about the human male bleeding in the gutter, give them his exact location and then find herself an empty seat in one of the Cross’ more reputable bars. It was one a.m. for Pete’s sake. If she wasn’t going to terminate some more demon ass, it was time for a coffee. If she was lucky, some idiot would try to pick her up before the sun rose and refuse to take no for an answer. At least then she could work out what was left of her agitation with a fistfight and go to bed more relaxed. Hopefully. She still needed her beauty sleep, damn it, whether she had the powers of a Principatus or not.

Ezryn Navarr strode through the ballroom, his footfalls echoing in the cavernous space, his stare fixed on the overlord and his new bride seated on a raised dais at the far end of the room. It might be customary for master vampires to pay homage to the visiting overlord within the hour of his arrival, but Ezryn never bothered with tradition—even less with any practice meant to appeal to the self-indulgent egomaniac currently ogling the lush breasts of the woman perched beside him.

Ezryn curled his lip in a silent sneer. The leader of the vampire race was a disgrace to his kind—wrapped up in his own importance, courting a dangerously disrespectful and violent attitude toward humans, obsessed with the accumulation of wealth and material possessions. The moron threw his considerable weight around without thought of consequence, his only concern the fulfillment of his every whim.

It pissed Ezryn off. A lot.

“Ho, friend Ezryn,” the overlord called, raising his hand and waving it a mere inch. His washed-out yellow gaze slid to his wife, and Ezryn’s fangs lengthened with contempt. The royal fool actually believed he could irritate Ezryn with his blatant parading? If that was the case, he was a bigger imbecile than Ezryn suspected.

Suspected? You’ve known he was an imbecile for almost seven hundred years.

The overlord flashed a wide smile, his pointed fangs glinting in the muted light from the many candles littering the ballroom. “You do us a great honor with your presence, Master Navarr.”

Ezryn suppressed the urge to snort, casting the room a disgusted glance. Candles? Dark Ones, what century did the fat fool think it was?

“Although,” the overlord continued, raising black eyebrows, “you are almost four hours late. We feared the Navarr master would not present himself to us before the sun rose.” He shot his new bride another quick look, as if eager to see her reaction to his royal disapproval.

Ezryn gave him a flat stare. “I had better things to do.”

The new bride gasped, pale skin bleaching white. She gaped at Ezryn, her eyes wide, candlelight turning her extended fangs a sick yellow.

The overlord snapped to his feet, jowls wobbling. “How dare you insult—”

“Give it a rest, Harry.” Ezryn cut him short. “Or I’ll pin you to the floor and drain you within a drop of empty like I used to.”

Haral Navarr, twin son of the first family, overlord of the vampire race, turned beet red—an interesting feat for someone deprived of sunlight for close to seven centuries. His mouth flapped in silent protest, his knuckles popping as he clenched his fists.

Ezryn shook his head, a sour taste coating the back of his tongue. “Do not fret, baby brother.” He ambled over to a long table overburdened with carafes of what could only be human blood, eyeing the ridiculously ostentatious ice sculpture of the overlord positioned amongst them. “I would not dream of harming the great leader of our people.” He pulled an apple from his inside jacket pocket and polished it on his sleeve, turning back to the royal couple. Very few of his kind could tolerate human food, his twin brother included. That Ezryn had no difficulty consuming it caused many a vampire to clench their jaw in envy—and trepidation.

Lifting the apple to his mouth, he parted his lips, letting Haral see his fangs before biting into the fruit’s flesh.

Haral narrowed his eyes, his face—so like Ezryn’s if not for the fat of indulgence—still red with anger. Or was it shame? “You will not call me ‘baby brother’, Ezryn. I ordered you to cease doing so over half a century ago.”

Ezryn bit into the apple again, enjoying the incensed impatience on his twin’s face as he chewed the mouthful without hurry. “And when did I start following your orders, Harry?”

The overlord’s wife gasped again, her lush breasts almost spilling over the top of her red latex corset. Ezryn gave her an indifferent glance before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. “What are you doing here, Haral? I can’t imagine Australia was your first choice for a honeymoon, especially during the summer. The sun doesn’t set here until nine most nights.” He finished the apple, savoring its succulent sweetness before dropping the core into the closest carafe of blood. It broke the still, red surface with a satisfying plop, the sound like a gunshot in the cavernous room. “In fact,” he went on, arching an eyebrow, “I can’t see any reason for you to have left your compound at all.”

The overlord flared his nostrils, a pathetic attempt to look intimidating. “I wanted you to meet Chantise.” He flicked his bride a quick look. “And she wanted to meet you.”

Ezryn chuckled, the sound low and almost a growl. Of course she would. She would want to see for herself the fabled son groomed to be the ruler of the vampire race, destined to be the next leader of them all—before the the oracle, the vampire race’s high priest, had changed everything. He gave his new sister-in-law a slow inspection and bent slightly at the waist. “Your ladyship.”

The woman’s gaze raked him from head to toe, her eyes aglow with the taint of a recent feed. She touched her tongue to the tip of her right fang, tracing her fingertips over the swell of her breasts. “Ezryn.”

Ezryn suppressed a disgusted grunt. The woman was well-suited to his brother—he could see the covetous hunger in her blood-drunk eyes, the smug conceit in the tilt of her chin. He turned back to Haral, eager to be done with the perverse family reunion. “What do you want, Harry? I thought I made it clear the last time we spoke that I never wanted to see you again. In fact, I moved to the other side of the world to make sure that’s exactly what would happen.”

The overlord straightened his spine, his eyes igniting with cold rage. The last time the two brothers had faced each other—over fifty years ago—the vampire lord had threatened to have Ezryn marked as a traitor to his kind. The last time they’d stood in the same room, Ezryn had come very, very close to destroying the vampire lord. Close enough for Harry to sweat blood. A lot of blood.

“I am your lord,” Haral snapped. The muscles in his face quivered and his yellow eyes dilated. “I can speak to you and call upon you whenever I wish.”

Ezryn barked out a harsh laugh, the sound like cracking ice. “I have no lord.”

Haral stamped his foot, his human face distorting into a demonic mask. “As the supreme ruler of our people, I hereby command you to a task.”

Ezryn narrowed his eyes. “Go to hell, Harry.”

“Not before you, Ezryn.”

With a low growl, Ezryn sprang forward, crossing the distance to Haral in a blurring leap. Clamping one hand around his twin brother’s neck, he yanked Haral’s feet off the floor. “You destroyed any right you had to command me, brother, when you invoked the power of the blood trial.”

Haral scratched at Ezryn’s hand, his eyes bulging. “And yet…” he rasped, “…the blood trial named me overlord. Not…” he bucked in Ezryn’s hold, “…you.”

Ezryn tightened his grip, the mention of the ancient ritual filling him with cold contempt. Since birth, he’d been groomed to take over from his father as the next leader of the vampire race. For six hundred and fifty years, he’d known little except that as the first son of the First Family, born but a mere five minutes before his twin, he was destined to be the next overlord. He’d been educated to lead a race on the verge of imploding. Too many of their number had grown disillusioned with the old ways, the violent use of humans as a food source, an equal number disgusted with the progressive notion humans weren’t just cattle. He’d been ready to restore harmony where only conflict existed. Ready to take his place as overlord. And then his father had been killed, staked by an emo demon-slayer wannabe with acne on his cheeks.

The day after the overlord’s death, the day before Ezryn was to ascend to the position of his birthright, Haral had invoked the blood trial, an ancient and barbaric ceremony designed to reveal the true overlord’s identity. And on the whispered words of the human virgin sacrificed for the trial—a young woman known as the oracle’s voice throughout the proceedings—the course of history had changed.

Ezryn stared into his brother’s eyes. “Just what do you want me to do…lord?”

Haral flashed his fangs, his Adam’s apple jerking under Ezryn’s palm. “My wife’s cousin was slain by a Principatus. I want you to destroy her.”

Ezryn clenched his jaw, a cold fist of disquiet in his chest. “A Principatus?”

What Haral commanded was insanity. To destroy a divine assassin in self-defense was one thing—the Powers would not retaliate against such a death. If a Principatus could not survive a fair fight with their foe, than the Powers seemed to wipe Their divine, righteous hands of Their failed assassin. But to destroy one in an act of revenge? That was to start a war beyond all comprehension. A war that would bring about the mass destruction of vampire and Principatus alike.

The Principatus were no easy kill. Once demons themselves, they were selected by the Highest of Powers for reasons unknown, granted a soul and reborn then and there as assassins of all things unholy and paranormal. Whether vampire, shifter or hell-spawn, if a being threatened the divine status quo, chances were the Powers would mark it for assassination and send a Principatus to carry out the kill. A Principatus’s rebirth gave them immeasurable powers and knowledge of their target. Few of those targeted escaped to brag of the battle. Still, the divine assassins could be beaten. If you were strong. And ready to face ultimate death yourself.

Releasing his hold on Haral’s throat, Ezryn took a step back, noting the feverish light in his brother’s eyes. There was more to this than Haral would have him believe. “Why do you want me to do this? Are you not capable of the task yourself?” He flicked his gaze over his twin’s soft, round body, remembering a time when it was almost a carbon copy of his own. “Are you having performance problems, Harry? Tsk, tsk. At your young age too.”

The overlord drew himself straighter, his incensed stare fixed on Ezryn. “I charged you with a task, Master Navarr. If you do not obey your lord, you will see yourself punished by our laws.”

“Punished? Laws?” Ezryn raised his eyebrows, struggling to control the growing fury seeping through his veins. His twin always had been a pompous pain in the ass. Now it seemed his position of power had finally gone to his empty head. “Any laws worthy of respect you perverted on ascension, Harry. As for punishment, remember who you’re talking to. Every vampire on earth knows who the true overlord is. Do you really think your punishment would be dealt?”

His brother snarled at him, demon face glowering with contempt and hatred. “Yes, of course, the true overlord. Born first by a mere contraction of our mother’s womb. And yet that simple order was proved false, wasn’t it? By the blood trial itself, the doctor who named you first born was proved a liar and executed. Thanks to ritual, the rightful son finally claimed his rightful title.” He paused, his smile smug. “I always knew I was better than you, Ezryn. It just took the words of a semi-catatonic virgin to prove it to the rest of our race.”

With a silent hiss, Ezryn grabbed Haral’s throat again, sinking his fingers into his brother’s fleshy neck before Haral could stop him. Cold contempt laced through the anger simmering inside him. The blood trial. Even the words made him sick.

The blood trial had not been invoked for over two thousand years. Why would it have been? It was an ancient ritual from a superstitious, barbaric past before common sense prevailed and the position of overlord became decided by birthright. Two master vampires would feed on a human virgin selected for her purity and spiritual nature to be the “voice” of the oracle. Almost draining her of her blood, they would let her linger in the void between expiration and transformation until she was a heartbeat away from death. When her pulse began to fade, when her lips began to turn ashen and her body began to convulse, each vampire would open their own vein and let a single drop of their undead blood fall onto her tongue. The vampire whose name she uttered into the waiting oracle’s ear, seconds before he claimed her virginity, was pronounced overlord.

It disgusted Ezryn, going against everything he believed in about the vampire/human relationship.

That Haral had invoked the blood trial the day after their father’s death had shocked everyone. As had the name the dying virgin had whispered. No one had expected the young woman to whisper Haral’s name. No one except Ezryn. He knew what his brother lusted for most of all. What Haral had always lusted for—the position and power of overlord, supreme ruler of their kind.

A mere week after their father’s end, Ezryn discovered his brother had been fucking the oracle. Unfortunately, he’d had no way of proving the forbidden relationship. Ezryn also knew his father’s advisors had been unhappy with Ezryn’s approaching ascension. His father, a two-thousand-year-old vampire less interested in ruling his people and more interested in sticking his prick in anything wearing a skirt, had been a ruler they could manipulate, control. Ezryn, on the other hand, had proved difficult to dominate and influence in his grooming for the position of overlord. More than once he’d made it clear he would not be a puppet to their political machinations, refusing to destroy vampires accused of vague, unsubstantiated crimes, questioning dubious requests his father would automatically approve, seeking answers to questions few in court wanted asked.

To this day, Ezryn had to admit he’d underestimated his brother. Haral had played all the pieces to perfection. The dying virgin had allegedly whispered Haral’s name in the oracle’s ear, and the advisors to the position of overlord had supported and enforced that proclamation. Ezryn was denied the title he’d been groomed for a mere twenty-four hours before his ascension. But blood trial or no, Ezryn would not kowtow to his brother. Especially when he didn’t believe what the virgin had proclaimed.

He drew Haral closer to him, his anger a cold fist in his chest. “Tell me, brother mine, supreme and oh-so-revered leader of our illustrious race, after the oracle finished raping the human virgin to her death, did he wipe his pus-weeping dick clean before sinking it into your ass?”

Haral hissed, tiny beads of saliva splattering his bottom lip. “I charge you with a task, Ezryn Navarr,” he snarled. “And for every night you choose not to obey my command, I will slaughter one vampire who chose to rebel against my ascension.”

Ezryn’s cold blood turned to fire. “You wouldn’t dare. I accepted that ridiculous proclamation to save bloodshed.”

His brother sneered, wrapping his fingers around Ezryn’s wrist. “Try me, Ezzie.”

The nickname stabbed into Ezryn’s chest. They had always despised each other, from the moment Haral learned of his lower position in the family. One son born to be lord, one son born to be subservient. One groomed for the duty, the other hungering for it with every molecule in his body. Ezryn bared his fangs, releasing his grip on Haral’s throat and stepping away from him. “That we come from the same blood disgusts me.”

Smoothing his hands over the crumpled collar of his shirt, Haral smiled, the action both smug and perverted. “As it does me, brother. So tell me, will you have your loyal followers’ destruction on your conscience? Will they drown in blood and burn in sunlight? Or will you do as your lord commands?”

Ezryn thought of the hundreds of vampires who had adamantly and vocally refused Haral’s ascension. Vampires who had moved beyond the savagery of their race long ago. Vampires who continued to have faith in him, even when he stepped aside. Who bemoaned his move to Australia and begged him to lead a rebellion. He remembered Kristoph, his tutor and advisor in the royal court for close to four centuries. The ancient vampire had been one of only two to discover Haral’s relationship with the oracle. Kristoph had spoken at length to the court, petitioning them not to appoint Haral, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Or scared ones. The mass slaughter of those immediately loyal to Ezryn had begun with Kristoph. Only Ezryn’s departure from Europe had halted the cleansing. Harry, of course, denounced his followers’ actions. He spoke verbosely and grandly of peace and coexistence but did little to stop the executions. Fifty years later, and the fury in Ezryn’s chest had not lessened one iota.

He stared at his brother. The disquiet in his chest grew colder. Tighter. What he was about to agree to do was insanity, but he had no choice. There was always a solution to lunacy—even if the solution was lunacy itself. “Where do I find this Principatus you’re so willing to see dead you will condemn hundreds?”

His overlord grinned at him, fangs glistening in the candlelight, eyes shining with cold triumph. “Why, in Australia, Ezzie. In the very city you now call home.”

“What do you mean, kill a Principatus? Is he insane?”

Jacob Ford, Ezryn’s closest friend and Sydney’s most successful nightclub owner, frowned, the glass of malt whiskey in his hand forgotten. He stared at Ezryn, his dark brown eyes troubled, his jaw clenched.

Navarr grunted, taking a mouthful of his own whiskey as he crossed his living room and dropped into a low armchair. “I had that very thought.” He crossed his ankles on the glass coffee table before him and gave his friend a dry smile. “And a few others it’s probably best I don’t express about the overlord.”

The American vampire snorted, the sound short and contemptuous. “Fat Harry isn’t the leader of the vampire race, Ezryn. You are.”

Ezryn shook his head and took another drink, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat like liquid fire. “No, Jacob. My brother is. You know it just as well as you know why I’m not. And as such, I am bound to obey my lord.”

“Well, your lord is going to start a fucking war between the assassins of the Highest of Powers and vampires the world over.” Jacob dropped into the other armchair and fixed Ezryn with a worried look. “Dark Ones, Ezryn. The idiot turns up here fifty years after that farce of a crowning ceremony trying to throw his considerable weight around, and you’re laughing about it? Does he even comprehend what he’s ordering you to do? You destroy a Principatus in an unprovoked attack and we may as well cry Apocalypse and kiss our asses goodbye. And he’s making you the target of both sides. Not only will the Principatus come after you, vampires across the globe will want to tear you limb from limb for starting such a senseless, bloody war.”

“I realize that.” Ezryn placed his empty glass on the coffee table and leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the armchair. “Haral has been looking for a way to get rid of me for as long as I can remember, and he’s finally found one.” He grinned, his fangs scraping at the inside of his bottom lip. “It’s actually quite clever…for my brother. I didn’t know Harry had it in him.”

Jacob pulled a contemptuous face, flashing his fangs, and then drained his glass. “He doesn’t have it in him. If he did, he wouldn’t resort to trickery to claim your title. Seriously, Ezryn, don’t you think this lunacy has gone on long enough? You know as well as I that you have the numbers to reclaim the position rightfully yours. The vampire race may be hobbled by tradition and ritual, but we’re not imbeciles. Fat Harry’s leadership is sending us all on a one-way path toward mass bloodshed and revolt. For fuck’s sake, only last year he ordered all bleeders swear loyalty to him or face sunrise chained to a tree. He’s on a power rush, dangerously out of control, and I for one am sick of it. It’s time to end the farce and put the moronic fuck in his place.”

Ezryn snorted, casting his friend a level look. “How many would perish in such a rebellion, Jake? How many vampires would be destroyed? How many humans would die caught in the crossfire? Haral’s followers are as loyal to him as mine are to me. The difference is his zealots have no respect for life of any kind except their own. You are right, I am the true overlord, and as such my first duty is to the survival of my race, not the decimation of it in a blood feud.”

Jacob growled, the sound low, demonic and very disgruntled. “I don’t know why I didn’t stake the bastard fifty years ago. I was there in his compound when he gave the order to execute Kristoph. The fat fuck could be nothing but dust now, and none of this shit would be going down.”

Ezryn gave Jacob a level look, ignoring the sorrowful anger spearing into him at the mention of his one-time advisor. “You would have been dusted the second you did, my friend.”

Jacob scowled, his expression dark. “I can take care of myself. You know that.” He pushed himself to his feet, agitation clear on his timelessly handsome face. “Besides, at this point the sacrifice would have been worth it. The moment you destroy the Principatus, Harry’s signing a death note for us all. The vampire race is strong, despite our ridiculous leader, but we will not survive the wrath of God. As much as it pains me to say it, we vampires would be on the losing side. Pick off one of His agents for no other reason than idiotic revenge and we’re all dusted.”

“And if I don’t obey my brother’s command, every vampire who opposed his ascension and stayed loyal to me will be slaughtered.” Ezryn turned his gaze from the other vampire. “I cannot have their blood, your blood, on my hands, General Ford.” He rose to his feet and crossed to the bar to pour himself another whiskey, his chest tight. “I will find the Principatus who offended my brother’s new wife,” he said, turning back to Jacob, “and kill her, as the overlord has ordered me to do.”

And then, he finished silently, I will offer myself to the Powers as an act of sacrifice and beg Their forgiveness. Allow them to do with me what they will to appease Their want for retribution. Hopefully this will halt the war before it can begin.

He drained his glass, keeping his expression neutral. “There is no other choice.”

Jacob narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it. I still say you let me dust the imbecile. I can enter his compound while he is here and have the deed done before the sun rises. He doesn’t know I’m in Australia and will not expect it. Hell, Harry’s followers are idiots. Those loyal to you can—”

“Follow my lead,” Ezryn cut Jacob short. “I must obey the overlord’s command, as must all vampires. It is the law of our kind.” He gave his friend a hard stare. “I will not allow any of those loyal to me to be destroyed by Haral’s hand. Too many have already lost their lives thanks to my brother. There can be no more. I have made up my mind, Jake. This is the way it is, and this is the way it will be. Do you understand?”

Jacob growled, placed his glass onto the coffee table and stormed across the room. He stopped at the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Sydney Harbor, his arms crossed, his shoulders bunched. Ezryn watched him, knowing he struggled to keep his demon sheathed. The American vampire had been his closest friend for almost four centuries, the brother he’d never had in Haral.

Ordered to the overlord’s court, Jacob had been accused by a rival vampire of systematically raping and butchering the females of his territory. Ezryn’s father—in a typical blood-drunk state—ordered Ezryn to execute the American without further question or evidence. Ezryn had refused, unwilling to commit such a sentence before discovering all the facts. Facts that, when revealed, not only exonerated General Ford, but proved the accusing vampire’s true motives—possession of Jacob’s territory and his new human wife. The American vampire had stood by Ezryn ever since, swearing not just gratitude, but fealty as well to the then-future overlord.

When the oracle proclaimed Haral first born, Jacob had been ready to go to war for Ezryn—an unwavering loyalty all too horrifically proved in blood.

Ezryn had been in his family’s castle witnessing his brother’s controversial ascension when Harry’s followers had attacked Jacob’s compound—a coward’s attempt to destroy Ezryn’s closest and most powerful ally. Jacob had destroyed five of them before they’d overpowered him. Five vampires decimated by a single one. The three left contained him, bound him in chains and made him watch as they butchered his entire staff, innocent people, human and vampire alike. They tortured them at length before raping his wife before his eyes. Three vampires who had all sworn fealty to Haral Navarr, the new overlord. Three vampires who held Jacob prisoner as they slowly cut his love to pieces.

Three vampires arrogant enough, stupid enough, to think they’d bested Ezryn Navarr’s general.

Three vampires who never saw the dark of night again.

Jacob never spoke of how he overcame them, but Ezryn had only had to look into his friend’s eyes when he’d found him to know Haral had made himself an enemy beyond his understanding. Ezryn was old, older than Jacob, and far more powerful, but thanks to Ezryn’s deranged brother, Jacob was now almost as dangerous.

Every time Ezryn found his friend staring at the small image of Melissa that Jacob kept in a white-gold locket by his lifeless heart, he thanked the Dark Ones Jacob was on his side.

What will he do when he learns of your sacrifice?

Ezryn ground his teeth. He would need to circumnavigate that problem before he killed the Principatus…somehow. Otherwise Jacob would begin a rebellion against Harry that might prove bloodier than the war Ezryn hoped his sacrifice would prevent.

Are you really going to do this? Kill a Principatus in an unprovoked attack? A female Principatus, at that? Won’t that single act make you as barbaric as you brother?

“I don’t like any of this.”

Jacob’s growl snapped Ezryn’s attention back to the here and now. He placed his untouched whiskey on the bar and moved to stand beside the brooding vampire at the window watching the yachts anchored on Sydney Harbor bob up and down with the rolling waves, their small lights like dancing stars on the black water. “I must admit it’s not how I saw the night progressing.” He gave Jacob a wide grin, trying to assuage his friend’s torment. “But think about it this way—I had nothing else planned to do tonight. What better way to spend the next few hours before dawn than hunting a Principatus?”

Jacob shot him a quick look. “If you think you’re hunting alone, you’re dumber than your brother.”

Ezryn shook his head. “I’m not letting you come with me, Jake. Not on this one.”

Jacob laughed, a short, sharp snort that made Ezryn want to grin and shake him at the same time. “And I’m not staying put.”

“Don’t push me, Jake.”

“Don’t be a moron then, Ezryn. Besides, I know something you don’t.”

Ezryn raised his eyebrows. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave Jacob an expectant look. “Really? And what’s that?”

“The Principatus has a thing for strip clubs.”

Something heavy pressed on Ezryn’s chest and he narrowed his eyes, staring hard at his best friend. “How do you know this, General? According to my brother no one knows just who the Principatus is.”

Jacob grinned, the expression way too triumphant for Ezryn’s tastes. “Further proof your brother is an imbecile.”

“Spill the beans, Ford.”

Jacob’s grin stretched wider, his earlier irritation forgotten in the rare opportunity to rile his master. “Rumor. And terrified whispers. And you’re right, as is the fat imbecile unfortunately, no one does seem to know what she actually looks like. Most of the clientele at the Pleasure Pussy, are petrified she’s going to come in, wings spread, eyes glowing that freaky-shit white light and go biblical on their demonic asses.”

Ezryn studied his smiling friend, the disquieting pressure on his chest growing heavier. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”

Jacob snorted. “Why would I? Until Harry came you’d never indicated an interest in the insane sport of Principatus hunting. And as I said, it’s all been rumor. Who knew there really was a female Principatus in town? And I thought it was bad enough having Ven Watkins in our midst.” He shuddered at the name before giving Ezryn a smirk. “A female assassin of God watching skin in one of my clubs? Hell, I’ll never be able to look at my clientele the same way again.”

Ezryn flashed his teeth. “I’ve always wondered if a Principatus could be perverted. Seems like the answer to that is yes.”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “But in one of my clubs? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Ezryn laughed. “Well, let’s go play bouncer, shall we?”

“You shouldn’t be enjoying this, Ezryn.”

Jacob was right. He shouldn’t. So why was the notion of one of the Highest of Powers’ assassins indulging in live porn stirring something in him? Something dark and entirely…sexual? And what exactly did he do about it?

***

Dark Embrace is available 2nd April from Samhain Publishing, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and many other ebook resellers

Newcastle Writer Festival – Where I Talk About What Women Really Want.

Lexxie Couper — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 01:17:20 +0000

This Friday evening marks the beginning of the inaugural Newcastle Writers Festival. I’m speaking on the Saturday evening session, What Women Want: A Discussion about Desire, with Anita Heiss and Marion Halligan. Dr. Anita Heiss is an Indigenous Literacy Day Ambassador and a proud member of the Wiradjuri nation of central New South Wales and Marion Halligan is one of Australia’s most prolific and awarded authors. (I know, I’m still stunned I’m on a panel with them both.) I can’t wait to meet these amazing writers and look forward to seeing what women really do want during our session.

You can find out more about the Newcastle Writer’s Festival at the official website (click here). The festival runs for three days with some amazing sessions and I’m absolutely chuffed to be a part of it.

I moved to Newcastle in 1993. I grew up in Tamworth, a rural city with a country town feel. Moving to Newcastle to study at university, I was a tad nervous. I am a country girl at heart and the idea of life in the big city scared me.

But Newcastle turned out to be just a country town in big city clothes. It’s a wonderful place to live, with friendly people, a rich multi-cultural heritage and beaches so beautiful you could just sit and watch the waves breaking on the sand all day (if you didn’t have to worry about deadlines. Grrr).

If you’re within driving distance of Newey, I’d love to see you Saturday night.

Lexx

Weigh-In Wednesday – Week Ten

Lexxie Couper — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 09:09:11 +0000

A funny thing happened to me this morning. I received an email from a friend who was feeling very negative about the world and a situation beyond her control. Normally I would have joined in the negativity, but this morning, I didn’t. I thought about the waste of energy impotent negativity brings and didn’t let it grab a hold of me. I understood it, and why my friend was feeling it, but I didn’t let it get to me.

I thought about my reaction and response to that email a lot during the day. And the biggest thing I’ve gleened from it is this: I am now a more positive person. I no londer dwell in the bad and glum and depressing of what I can not change. If it’s out of my control, why let it control my emotional state? I think, no I know, this is all part of losing weight and getting healthy and for that I am truly truly glad I started this journey.

I’m not just going to be able to outrun the zombies when the apocalypse comes, I’m still going to be able to see the positive in the sunrise I’m fleeing towards as I do it. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a very very good thing, don’t you think?

Week Ten Details

Weight – 76.7kgs

Nickname for Brendon – Brendon the Bitchin’ (cause he is *grin*)

Things I’m craving the most – not food, but a good long soak in a bath with a glass of Moscato and a good book (my reward to myself when I hit 70kgs)

Mood – Positive