Hi All!

I’m cheating…  I’m giving you chapter five of Dead by Dawn since I had to write it anyway. 

————————–

Between one heartbeat and then next, he enveloped her in his arms and called to the darkness.  It wrapped around their entwined bodies, shielding them from the assailants while pulling them into another realm.  His realm. 

Shadow dwellers, the souls of those dispatched by Shadow Demons, swirled around them as he navigated the midnight black world of the shadows.  He pulled her with him, fending off the hungry shadows, looking for a new body to inhabit.  There was a reason humans feared the dark, the shadowy corners on a midnight street.  Nothing a corporeal being could do would ever compare to the damage a hungry bodiless soul could impart on a human.  Nothing.

Her curves molded to him as they traveled and her pulled her tighter against his chest.  He could tell himself he wanted her close to protect her.  He could…  But that wasn’t why his cock throbbed and ached as the hardened nubs of her nipples dug into his chest.  Protection had nothing to do with the way she seemed to try to crawl beneath his skin as their bodies danced along the darkness.

They were solid, yet they were… not.  Something in between the two states.  Aware and able to move with one another, but not within a passing human’s scope of vision.  It was that anonymity that emboldened him, that let him take his pleasure while slinking among the soulless devils.

Isis slid her booted foot along his calf, wrapping her leg around his own.  The movement furthered his cause.  He tightened his hold around her waist, raising her the few precious inches until her hips cradled his dick.  The hardened flesh pulsed as her hips rocked against him, as if welcoming his touch.  And he wanted to touch.

She nibbled his neck, taking advantage of her new position and for once, he had to admit he liked a little bit of pain with his pleasure.  The sharp sting took the edge off and he mentally thanked her for pulling him back a step.

A shadow approached, he could feel the being’s heartless hunger as it slunk toward them.  He opened his eyes, letting the eerie white glow of his kind, well part of his kind, free to dispatch the would-be aggressor.  He didn’t want some bit of evil interrupting him now.  After all, Shadow Demons didn’t kill indiscriminately.  They came after those that deserved their form of punishment.

Isis laved the side of his neck, her arms tightened around his shoulders and she seemed to be practically crawling up his body.  He urged her leg higher to his hip, opening her to him fully. 

Even with the layers of leather and jean that separated them, he could sense her heat.  Vincent imagined her pussy, soaked, throbbing and open for him moments before he plunged in deep and hard.  If possible, his cock lengthened further, hardened further.  Never before had he been this turned on by a woman, when navigating the shadows no less.

Her lips brushed the underside of his jaw and he finally gave in to temptation.  He tilted his chin and captured her lips with his own.  He didn’t give her a moment to adjust to the new intimacy.  He thrust his tongue between her lips into the warm cavern of her mouth.  She didn’t retreat.  No, she advanced and twined her tongue around his, stroking and sucking as she rubbed her pussy against his length.

Lord, any minute now he’d come in his jeans.  The combination of her pussy, just out of reach, and her magical lips and mouth strained his control. 

Vincent couldn’t lose control.  Not know, at least.  Maybe when they’d reached his home and were protected by his men they could get lost in each other’s bodies.  Then thrust his cock deep into her pussy and freeze, reveling in the tight heat surrounding him.  She’d be impatient and rock her hips, begging him to continue.  He moaned as the image solidified in his mind.  Yes.

But now… now he had to keep alert.  Even with her tongue down his throat, he sensed another shadow approach.  Again, the process was repeated.  He released his inner demon to drive away the oncoming creature, driving it back to the darkness.  A woman such as Isis was a tasty morsel to the beings which inhabited the shadows.  Tasty indeed.

Before long, they neared his home.  He materialized before the front door just long enough gain entrance to the building. 

On the outside, it looked like a dilapidated warehouse, but as they say, appearances can be deceiving.  His home, though bathed in darkness, never allowed souls into its walls.  It was a home shrouded in shadows, yet safe to any Shadow Demon who entered.

In seconds they broached his security and he thrust them into the darkness again.  Ah, the joys of being a Shadow Demon.  Travel from one point to the next was only as far away as the next bit of dark. 

Before he released his next breath they were upstairs in his bedroom.  Then, and only then, did he release her, content that she was safe and that now he’d get what he’d been waiting for.

“Strip.”  His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears, but arousal and need always seemed to that to him.  Funny, with Isis, it seemed even worse than ever before.  He couldn’t explain his attraction to the pure beauty, but he’d be damned if he’d fight it.  Not if she was willing.  And her heat pressed against him, stroking his length as they traveled, proved she was willing.

Her answer, when it came, warred with her breathless pants.  “Yes.”

—————————–
To read the first four chapters of Dead by Dawn, please stop by the In Darkness website today!

Woot!  Tuesday wrote chapter four this week and it’s wicked cool!

***

Her heart pounded with every step she took. Ba boom. Ba boom. Ba boom. Each step echoed through her mind as Isis ran for her life. Sweat coated her flesh and slid down her skin in thin rivulets of water. It wasn’t until she was forced to run through the club that Isis realized just how large In Darkness was.

Each foot she took seemed to take an eon. She moved to the right, sliding past an arguing couple.

Two vampires. The man would rather be hunting. The female was determined to spend the night dancing.

Isis envied her as she glided through an open doorway which lead to a smaller, more private dance floor.

The door had barely closed behind her when she heard his voice. She hadn’t run far enough, fast enough.

“Why do you run when you know you’ll be caught?” His voice was dark, deep, and painfully seductive.

Isis pushed aside the need she felt as she listened to the intoxicating tone of his words and reached behind her. Her hands shook as she tightened her fingers around the cool metal door knob.

She swallowed thickly. “Running is natural when you are faced with death.”

“Is it?” He took a step forward, just one step and yet it felt as though he stood right before her. He was calling out to her. The very essence of his being demanded she come to him. She fought it off and focused on what she wanted, no needed.

She rotated her wrist. A cool sense of calm flowed through her when the knob turned in her grip.

“Don’t you believe life is worth living?” She answered his question with her own. She spoke the words as she finished turning the doorknob. The final click of the release was covered by her statement.

A statement that had caught him off guard. He stilled, hard, chiseled face frozen with confusion. “No, I do not believe that life is worth living.” He said the statement so matter of fact. It was as though he was telling her what time it was.

His veiled pain broke off a little piece of her heart.

“Every life is worth living.” Isis threw the words over her shoulder before ripping the door open and running out of the room.  Her feet pounded the ground as she made her way through the club, zigzagging through couples, whipping past small groups of friends and avoiding strangers to make her way to the front of the club.

Exit.

The red, brightly lit sign called out to her as adrenaline pumped thick and hot through her veins. She took in a deep sigh of relief when she saw that the thick door stood open. Her release was at hand. Her heart rate increased with every step she took. And then she did it. She was over the threshold.

Cool air moved over her skin, lifted the dark strands of her hair as she ran the outer length of the goth club. She groaned when pain laced her side. A stitch.

She had to fight past it. She had to ignore the ache and keep going.

He came out of nowhere, stepping from the shadows to stand right before her.

Isis ran straight into his hard chest. She bounced back and her bottom hit the floor. “Shit.”

He reached down and grabbed her arms, lifting her to her feet. Isis found her back against the cool, hard, cement wall. Vincent pressed his body up against hers. She could feel every inch of him. His rock hard chest. The sculpted planes of his flat stomach. The corded muscles of his long thick thighs. And the bulge between them.

She took in a deep breath.

It was meant to calm her.

With the soft act she took in his scent, a dizzying combination of male, need, and danger. It was anything but calming.

“This running thing has got to stop.”

She licked her lips slowly. His gaze lowered to her mouth and he watched the slow glide of her tongue across her lower lip. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Isis could feel the need that coated every inch of his hard frame, deepen, become stronger.

“Fine, then get it over with.” She spit the words out through her clenched teeth. The truth was she was tired. Tired of running. Tired of living in the shadows. Tired of waiting for death to come to her.

Vincent leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek. She shivered, took a breath and brought her knee up. His large rough palm caught her knee before it collided with his balls.

She was tired, yes. But she wasn’t so exhausted she was going to give up living.

“Somebody’s been a bad, bad girl.”

He slowly lowered her leg, gliding his fingers up her thigh, caressing her as the callused pads of his fingers danced upon the leather pants she wore. She shuddered when they reached the area where hip met thigh.

Her lips parted as she sucked in air. Her gaze lifted to his. He moved closer to her. Less than a step, but it made all the difference. She could feel his very heartbeat.

“Are you going to do it or not?”

She hated the wait. Isis had never been one for patience and that wasn’t about to stop in the handsome face of death.

“I haven’t decided. It seems so wrong to kill something so pure, so beautiful.”

Her eyes widened as his words rolled over her, sunk deep beneath her skin. She hated him almost immediately. Her arms swung up in an ark. Both hands landed on his shoulders in a chopping style just as she brought up her right knee. This time she made contact. With both his shoulders and gut.

He groaned and grabbed her arms. With a tight jerk he pulled them down to her side. Vincent spun then around in a circle knocking her back against the wall. Forcing the breath from her chest with the impact.

“Two for two, somebody’s batting a hundred.”

She glared at him.

Vincent was playing games with her. Isis knew exactly what he was, what he was capable of. He was unlike anyone she’d ever read before. He was part shadow dweller, part succubus, and part vampire.

“What are you waiting for? Do it! Do what you do!”

He smiled. “And what is it that I do?”

Her glare hardened. “You know exactly what you’re capable of.”

“Hmmm, Sola told me about you. Special, aren’t you? You’re supposed able to see other’s powers, their capabilities. Must be a bitch.”

She blinked at him.

He waited for her. Finally, she spoke. “It has its bad days.”

“Like today.”

“Yes.”

“You know what death at my hands means.”

It was a statement, not a question. Still, she felt the need to answer. “Yes, it’s not actually death. Not in the sense most people think.”

Vincent was part shadow dweller. The embrace of a shadow dweller meant both death and condemnation. Once a human was embraced by a shadow dweller, their souls joined their ranks of the Dwellers. The dead were forced to live among the shadows and remain in limbo forever. It was death and yet a fate worse than it at the same time.

Isis knew she was walking to her death when she went to visit Sola. Death she could accept. Death at Sola’s hands had been preferable to life at the mercy of the man her family had sold her to. But living as a Shadow Dweller with no soul was another thing.

She’d take her own life or run forever before she became a shadow.

Vincent watched her, intense eyes roaming over the planes of her face before returning to hold her own gaze. “You do have the gift of sight, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Such a shame that your death will be on my hands.”

He leaned low and pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth opened automatically, allowing his thrusting tongue access to the deepest recesses of her mouth. Vincent took her what she offered, kissing her like a man starved. His tongue moved her tongue to tangle with hers, coax her into a dance.

He pulled back when they were both breathing hard. “You are dangerous, young seer.”

She stared at him as she tried to capture her breath. She did not know what to say in response to his words, in response to the smoldering heat she saw in his eyes.

He took two steps away from her. “Do you know what I am?”

“Isis!” She turned at the sound of her named yelled at the top of a man’s lungs. Her gaze caught sight of a small mob. Over half a dozen men watched her with disgust filled eyes. Her gaze widened as she took them in. Her family had sent reinforcements.

The man in the middle, the leader, a werewolf took a step forward. The crowd followed.

They’d been sent to drag her back to him if Vincent failed.

She looked around her wildly and caught Vincent’s watchful gaze. “I’ve made promises to Sola, but I can choose to keep my hands clean.”

Let the men her family had hired drag her away and possible kill her while trying to subdue her. Let the mob kill her or take her back.

She considered running, but Isis knew she could not outrun a werewolf, let alone the rest of the crowd. Especially when she was already exhausted from running from Vincent. She needed help.

“Or?”

“Can you tell me what I am?”

“Yes.”

He gave her that smile that she was already coming to know. “Then take my hand.”

***

Wanna read chapters one through three?  Pop over to the In Darkness site!  www.indarkness.literalseduction.com

Ce

Woot!  Here’s chapter three of Dead by Dawn.  I honestly think Tuesday is going to kick my butt.  I make things up and change them without consulting her and when she reads this post, it’ll be the first time she’s read this chapter.  Talk about living on the edge!  Anyway… enjoy!

*****

Vincent melded with the shadows, surrounding himself in their dark embrace as he waited.  The demons who called the dark their home burrowed beneath his skin, seeping through his very pores, in search of his soul.  They wouldn’t find it.  He’d determined long ago that whispers of souls were myth told to human children.

Seconds ticked by and he remained ignored by Sola.  He wasn’t surprised.  They’d danced this same waltz many times before.  She would tell those who begged her for assistance what exactly what was in store for them and then… he would go to work.  The dirty task always fell to his shoulders.

As he grew tired of the demon’s embrace and prepared to shake off their presence, the office door opened.  Markham entered.  Unusual for him to precede a guest.  The disrespect would hopefully be noticed by Sola.  Regardless of her occasional heartless outbursts and quick temper, she embraced human customs and manners.  In turn, she forced them all to.

Vincent darted his gaze between the door and Sola, waiting to see her response.  She merely raised an eyebrow at her follower before returning her attention to the papers on the desk.  When he returned his full attention to the doorway, he sucked in a quick breath, gut tightening as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.  Fierce, painful and straight through his blood, this woman’s spirit flowed.

She didn’t seem aware of his presence as he remained surrounded by the damned and he took a moment to admire her beauty. 

Pressed against the corner as he was, Vincent could only admire her in profile.  Her silken midnight hair hung long down her back, free of any ties or braid to keep it secure.  Foolish.  Beautiful, but foolish.  In the darkened room, her pale skin burned like a bright light.  A beacon for the soiled looking for purity.  One look at upturned nose, rounded features and smooth skin and he knew the woman before him had one of the purest souls known to the devil. 

Dressed in the traditional black gothic garb, even the clothes couldn’t diminish her internal light.  And they definitely didn’t diminish the appeal of her figure either.  The spaghetti strapped tank top clung to her shoulders and outlined her pert breasts.  Taking a deep breath, he sent a soft wind of frigid air in her direction and was satisfied to see her nipples bead and harden in response to the chill.  No bra.  The leather pants she wore fit her like a glove.  Tight enough to outline every dip and curve of the lower half of her body, but still appeared to give her room to move.  She’d need it.  Steel-toed boots capped off her attempt at fitting in with the patrons of In Darkness. 

But this woman… she’d never fit in with the world of pulsing and gyrating bodies below with the scents of sweat and sex mingling with alcohol as they drowned their problems.  No, she was not his typical assignment.  He wondered what Sola was thinking.  Calling him in for a case such as this amounted to…

“Sit.”  Sola’s clipped order met silence for a moment.

“I’ll stand.”  The newcomer braced her legs apart, arms crossed over her chest.  Vincent wondered if Sola caught the tremor in the woman’s voice.  While she tried to appear in control, she was anything but.

 ”Very well then.”  Sola stood and glided over the carpeting to stand before the woman.  “Isis, your brother contacted me on your behalf, yes?”  At Isis’ nod, Sola continued.  “You have a problem that only a certain member of my followers can solve though, ultimately, your death is the answer to your dilemma.”

Sola turned toward him, her ice blue eyes cut through the demons still searching for his soul and he shrugged them off.  Stepping out of his shadowed sanctuary, he made himself known to Isis.

Her violet eyes clashed with his and time seemed to stop as they stared at one another.  Not a muscle, save her heart, moved as he took her measure.  Just as he suspected, purity flowed through her veins and shone from her eyes.  The curves he’d glimpsed before sent shocks of desire straight to his cock.  Perhaps there would be time for a quick fuck before he dispatched her.

Before he could utter a word of welcome, she sucked in a quick breath, eyes widening.  In a flash, she dove through the two-way glass window leading to the club below.  The window shattered, shards of glass raining on the patrons and Vincent rushed to ledge, arriving just in time to see Isis flip through the air to land on the bar-top below.  Her hair wrapped around her as if it were a cloak when her boots met the wooden surface.  Her violet eyes, almost glowing in the darkness, met his for a brief second before she took off running through In Darkness. 

People and things seemed to melt away as she sped through the cloud.  The entire time, he kept his eyes trained on his quarry.  He’d been ordered to complete the task, and he would.  Eventually.

“You should not lose her, my Vincent.”

“I will not.”  He responded quickly.  He’d never lost anyone.  Ever.  He definitely wouldn’t lose the woman.

“Ah, but there are things you do not know about Isis.  Why did she not become overwrought with fear until she saw you, do you think?”  Vincent remained silent, knowing Sola would answer her own question.  In time.  “Isis has a gift unique to all others.  So few, even in my Kindred, have this ability.”

Vincent replayed his first meeting with the woman in his mind.  Nothing he’d sensed or seen proved to him that she was anything other than human.  A highly trained human when he considered how she’d escaped, but human none the less. 

He watched as Isis neared the club’s outer door, dancers and party-goers blocking her path. 

“Isis knows your powers with just one look, my Vincent.  Even if you do not know them fully yourself.  You see, dear boy, she can tell you what you are, even if you cannot.”

Vincent wasted no time.  He followed Isis’s path. Jumping from Sola’s window, he landed on the bar with a thud.  Instead of plowing through the patrons, he called to the shadows and melted into their embrace.  He had a woman to question… and kill.

A warm palm came to rest at the back of my neck for a moment before he slid his fingers down my spine.  Those work-rough fingertips left goosebumps in their wake as the callused skin skimmed my back.  I tried to supress my shiver of excitement, but failed.  I didn’t want him to see my reaction to him.  Knowledge is power and that was knowledge I didn’t want him to have.

“Too bad, sugar.”  He whispered against my ear.  I loved that he could read my mind.  I’d given him permission before our meeting to delve into the depths of my thoughts. 

I hadn’t taken my eyes from the mirror behind the bar.  It had granted me the ability to view my surroundings without craning my neck, but now, even though I felt his touch and reveled in his hot breath fanning my neck… it revealed nothing. 

My lover for the evening, the man caressing the crease at the top of my ass and nipping my neck with infinite care… he didn’t cast a reflection.

She’s there.  Just like I told her to be.  From the four inch heels to the skin tight teal satin dress, she looks exactly as I imagined.  She had hesitated at my order.  I remember the discussion clearly.  She felt her curves, those luscious curves I can’t wait to trace with my tongue, were too abundant to wear such a tight fitting dress.  I instructed her otherwise.

And there she sits.

Watching.

Waiting.

Wondering.

Hoping.

Praying.

She’d expressed her concern over becoming another statistic.  Meeting a man in a strange place…  But she still came, as I soon would.

Just being in this place makes my cock hard.  Not because of the less-than-stellar décor, but because of what I’m here to do… to her.  I adjust my dick, hard and aching against my leg.  It lengthens further beneath my palm and I know I’m going to embarrass myself as I walk across the room.  Then again, why should I be embarrassed?

I’m meeting a gorgeous woman who is dying to get her hands on me and before the night is through… she’ll be dying.  Period.

[display_podcast]

This is actually the beginning of a story idea I’ve been tossing around.  Still not sure if it will see the light of day, but at least ya’ll can read the first few hundred words. 

***

Here I am, sitting in a typical hotel bar. You know the ones. Non-descript curtains line the walls, trying to make patrons feel like they’re in some tropical paradise instead of the local downtown motel. They try to make us forget that tomorrow morning while we’re nursing a hangover that won’t quit, we’ve got to sit through some convention spiel.

I look around the room, taking in those beige tropical curtains and wicker chairs filled with merry drinkers. I feel a little sorry for them. Notice I said little. They have to wake up tomorrow morning to a hangover and I get to wake up to…

Well, as long as this whole thing isn’t a mistake, I’ll wake up a happy woman. That’s why I’m here in this place. I’m hoping that all of the planning and preparation will all be worth while.

The plane tickets, the rental car, the suite in this hotel…they’re all for one purpose. And here I sit.

Watching.

Waiting.

Wondering.

Hoping.

Praying.

And now…now I hope it hadn’t been a mistake. Hope that it all hadn’t been for nothing. I hope that I’m not meeting my death like the cliché dumb blonde that goes down into the basement only to be killed by the axe murderer in every horror flick ever made.

Taking another sip of my apple martini, my liquid courage, my eyes wander to the bar tender wiping down the counter. His eyes wander over my body and I smile. He can look, but touching is reserved for the man I’m meeting.

First a note about this week’s flash.  This is actually the beginnings of a serial story being written by my crit partner, Tuesday Morrigan and me.  Additional chapters as they become available can be found at http://www.indarkness.literalseduction.com/.  While I will always post MY chapters here as well, you’ll always be missing a piece of the puzzle since Tuesday’s will only appear on the In Darkness site. 

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming…..

Dead by Dawn - Chapter One

The wheels of the private jet kissed the runway in a smooth caress as the pilot landed the plane.  So good, her Markham.  Never had he jostled the plane during a landing thereby upsetting Solanara’s work.   

As if he and the plane were one, he maneuvered the massive conglomeration of steel and wires through the air and on the ground with ease.  Once he taxied to her personal hangar, he joined her in the spacious cabin, waiting silently by the door as she finished her task.

Sola broke the mental connection with her kindred and opened her eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the man before her.  Dressed in a tailored suit with nary a wrinkle in sight, he looked fresh and alert, ready to protect his mistress.  As always.

She rose and glided to stand beside him.  With a few clicks and turns, he had the hatch open and he strode down the steps, always protecting.  She waited for him to gesture for her to disembark.  Very little could kill her, harm her in any way, yet she indulged her Markham’s desire to protect her.

The journey from the plane to the limo was uneventful.  In darkness, no one dared to approach Sola, not if they expected to see the light of day again.

Markham held the door open for her and their gazes met for a brief moment before he dropped his attention to the ground.  His eyes, so similar to her own yet different, held a yearning and desire she’d seen before.  Poor child.

Once ensconced in the plush leather interior of her limo, Markham began driving them to their destination.  It wasn’t long before the call she’d been expecting arrived.

“Mistress?” Markham’s deep, rumbling voice filled with respectful hesitancy floated through the air.

“Put it through.”  The tedious mortals.  The tell-tale click met her ears and she knew her driver had passed the call on to her.  “Speak, Nathaniel Badeu.”

“Thank you for speaking with me Mistress Sol–”

“Mistress?  Are you swearing fealty to me Mr. Badeu?  For I will gladly take another soul into my caring for eternity.” Not a hint of sound could be heard from the speaker.  Not a breath or a whisper. “I thought not.  Perhaps you should choose your words more carefully, yes?”

“While I mean no disrespect, Madame, I am not swearing fealty.”  Again, the caller did not breathe.

“I thought not.  Perhaps you should ask your question and conclude our business before I choose to bind you to me, Mr. Badeu.  For you most certainly offered by calling me Mistress.”  Ah, the joys in toying with mortals.

“I am calling regarding my sister.  My family has sol–”

She cut him off.  Trivialities.  “I know this.  I know all that happens in the families, Nathaniel.  What does this has to do with me?”  Sola wanted the words.  Nothing less would sever their ties.  They why’s and how’s didn’t matter, her will would be done, but she needed the words from him.

“The family Badeu is calling in the debt owed by Mi– Madame Solanara.”  The words were spoken in a rush of breath and nerves, but they were spoken all the same.  The call had been uttered and she would answer.

“You speak for the family?  For once the debt has been repaid, I will dispatch with those that would argue it was done without honor.” 

Let him get it out clearly, so no mistake could be made.  “I do.”

Sola nodded and closed her eyes.  It would be done.  “Send her to me, Nathaniel Badeu, and the debt owed to the Badeu family by Solanara will be repaid.”

“What…” The man hesitated as well he should.  She sensed she was about to be insulted or worse, questioned.  “What will happen to her?”

“Send me your sister, Mr. Badeu, and worry no longer.”

Sola did not wait for a response.  Pressing a button, she disconnected the call, unwilling to listen to any more of the mortals yammering. 

She met Markham’s gaze for a brief second in the rear view mirror and she saw his disapproval, but she didn’t care.  The mortal had questioned her honor.  Let him squirm and worry for his sister a bit longer. 

Sola had no doubt the Badeu woman would be waiting at In Darkness for her when she arrived.  She had seen these events coming as they flew through the skies and upon visualizing the woman, Sola knew what must be done.  Isis Badeu, the beauty her family had sold to another, would be dead by dawn.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the club, her club, In Darkness.  She stood outside the back door, the pulsing of the music vibrating through the street beneath her feet and she inhaled the sweet scent of the patrons’ lust and excitement.  Like a balm to her soul and food for her heart, their youth and wide range of emotions renewed Sola.

She wasted no further time dawdling.  Markham held the door open for her as always and she traveled up the back stairway to her office, her sanctuary within her sanctuary. 

Sola sensed him the moment she’d touched the first step, but said nothing.  Instead, she made two drinks, Absinthe, for them both.  She held one glass out and his ghost-like fingers slithered over hers before clutching the glass.  “Luc.”

“Solanara.”  She imagined him tipping his head in greeting, but in truth, the most she could see were his glowing red eyes.  While Sola’s eyes were often compared to the coldest glacial ice in the far reaches of the poles, Luc’s were easily the color of hell’s hottest fire.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this day?”  Silently, she moved to sit behind her cherry wood desk.  The deep polished wood blended easily with Sela’s preferred muted décor.

“I heard tell that the Badeu’s have called in their debt.”

“You either felt fit to dip into my thoughts or those of another.  I’m assuming it was another, for your sake, as you well remember the last time we crossed on the battlefield.”

His burning red eyes closed for a moment, no doubt as he remembered the time in Rome when her rage had gone unbridled.  While mortals thought of it as an ancient time, it was merely yesterday to them. 

“I recall… vividly.  I simply came to observe, to see if the rumors were true.”

He goaded her and she fought the urge to strangle him where he sat.  Placing her glass on the desk, she leaned forward, gaze locked with his.  “And what rumors are those, Luc?” She kept her gaze steady as she rose, gliding slowly over the carpeted floor as she closed the distance between them.  “What rumors are those?”

“That the Madame Solanara has gone soft.  That she now spreads happiness as she spreads pain.  Is it true, Sola?  Have you betrayed our purpose?”

Luc did not have an opportunity to say more. Gripping him by the throat, Sola lifted him from the couch, his feet dangled and toes brushed the thick carpeting as he scrambled for purchase.  “Do not forget who I am, what I am and what I have done in my life, Luc.  Kindred or not, you will die the next time those words are uttered from your mouth or mind.”

With a great roar, Solanara threw Luc, Lucifer, the mortal’s devil himself, through the two way glass separating her loft office from the writhing bodies below.  Glass shattered as his body was thrust through the barrier, shards rained down on the unsuspecting patrons below, unnoticed.

Sola waved and the glass reformed, placing the barrier in place once again.  Luc had placed her in an evil mood.  She’d need to meditate and clear her mind before she met with Isis.  The woman waited below, her fear palpable even at this distance.

“Markham.”  She had only to whisper his name and he appeared at her side.

“Mistress?”  He kept his eyes downcast, exactly as a follower should.

“Bring me Vincent.” He would solve the problem. Easily.

Second week…  Did you come back for more?
Savannah stretched, wincing with the ache that accompanied her movement. Arms above her head, she arched her back and curled her toes. Aches and twinges everywhere.

She’d worked him hard the night before. Not the other way around, of course. Savannah had never let a man get the best of her. No, absolutely not.

After hours of fucking, riding and sucking, he’d slumped over her, exhausted. She smiled at the memory of his panting breath against her neck as he tried to recover. Weak human.

A glance to her left quickly revealed said human still in her bed. That would not do at all. He had not been given permission to remain.

With a shove, Savannah cleared her bed of the offending man. A thud met her ears in tandem with his grunt.

“That’s better.”

So, the AMP authors have started a bit of a thing to do on Friday’s.  Friday Flash Fiction!  Woot!

The general guidelines are that you do up to 750 words of anything you want.  I’m not that adventurous, at least not yet.  So I’ll do anywhere from 100 to 750 words.  :D  Don’t want to strap myself into something I can’t handle.  LOL

Yum

Lick, lap, suck, flick.

Savannah slid her tongue along his length, savoring his musky flavor and scent. She reached the end of his shaft and dipped her tongue into his tiny slit, earning her a gasp from Jacob. He dug his fingers into her hair and she smiled, rubbing her lips on the head of his cock. Salty drops of pre-come painted her lips and she savored his gift.

“Annah, please.”
 
Giving in, she opened her mouth wide and let his cock slide past her lips and slip along the flat pad of her tongue until he nudged the back of her throat. She retreated, giving him shallow dips and slides. She wouldn’t let him back there, not yet. He hadn’t earned that kind of blow job.

Okey dokey. That’s it for me. Not much, but I was just feeling in the half-of-a-bj kind of mood. Drop your info in the box if you’re participating!

Ce