Rose Lust & Monsters Books 4 - 6

Book 4 - 6 of 'Lust & Monsters'
1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-0-463-87633-6
Verlag: Boruma Publishing, LLC
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 178 Seiten

Eighteen-year-old Raelynn Pierre's life is thrown into complete turmoil when she falls into the clutches of bloodthirsty vampires.
The only thing keeping her safe is a mysterious werewolf who has appointed himself her protector. He devastates her control and takes her for the first time. To her horror, he then shares her with a vampire who wants her body in exchange for the protection he can offer.
Pleasure and pain intertwine as Rae is compelled to surrender everything to these strange beasts, hot longing squeezing her loins and flooding her senses, making her succumb without thought of the consequences of taking multiple lovers at the same time.
This complete trilogy contains a HEA with three alpha males sharing an innocent young woman in steamy scenes with elements of domination and submission.
----- Excerpt -----
'What if I refuse?'
Reaching out, his fingers toyed with the collar of my dress. 'I suppose we would just have to hold you down,' he suggested dangerously, his fingers gripping the collar of my dress, eyes gazing at me so invitingly. I couldn't help but feel something in me relax as he continued to look at me.
Shades of pink poured into my cheeks and without thought, my gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips.
I shook my head. 'Stop it.'
'Stop what?' he started, pulling me closer to him. My body arched into his, our bodies fitting together like parts of a puzzle.
'Whatever you're doing. Stop it,' I pulled away, deliberately trying to focus my eyes at anywhere but him.
His chuckle vibrated through his body to mine, sending a chill down my spine. 'I'm not doing anything,' he said and with one tilt of his head, closed the space between us. He tasted like mint and blood. I didn't mind. His lips were soft, full, and cold.
I thought I heard a growl behind me, but the touch of his tongue on my lips erased all trace of Kenzo from my mind.. His tongue ran along the seam of my lips and I parted them, allowing him inside. His kiss was passionate and hot, burning me from the inside out. His hands were on my shoulders, tight enough to keep me in place, but not so tight that I couldn't pull away if I wanted to.
Trembling, I struggled to find reason through the haze of the moment. Yet, as his tongue continued to dance with mine, my thoughts were jumbled together, making little sense.
Something like panic started to build in my chest, but only for a moment, a stray murmur in a roaring of pleasure. I ould feel him, every inch of him, every breath he took, everything he felt. Something wound sharp, coursing through my veins and stabbing in the depths of my heart. He consumed me, taking control.
What was it that I was feeling? My blood seemed to roar, pounding, echoing in my chest as things clicked into place. The very air around us grew dense, shrouding us in darkness despite the lights.
Too soon, he pulled his mouth away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my chin and to my neck. His long fingers unzipped the dress from behind and he pulled one sleeve off my shoulder, his mouth trailing after it. His tongue licked above the dip in my neck.
Gasping, I scrunched my eyes shut and clutched at the fabric covering his chest, pushing against the intensity of him as his touch skimmed down my bare shoulder, tugging the dress all the way down my hand. The feel of his warm breath wafting over my collar bone propelled the heat to every part of my body, tearing a whimper from my lips.
'Stop this,' I gasped, but my fingers gripping his shirt tightly, pulling him closer.
From under his lashes, his eyes leveled themselves upon me, boring into my soul as he drew his lips back and sunk his teeth into my neck, creating punctures in the soft skin. A hot, torrid shock was sent straight to my loins as I arched my back and released a needy moan, echoing down the hall.
I felt Kenzo's hands around my waist, keeping me on my feet as Diego drank from my veins.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Rose, Daisy

Leseproben

Chapter 1: Old Family
It was one of those soft, flawless days when the sea and the sky seemed to meet and the world was an exquisite shade of blue that filled my mind with a sense of peace and serenity. I stretched and laid back to the cushioned rattan chair, feeling marvelously at peace with the enchanting world of sunshine. A cool breeze caught my cheeks, ruffling my hair back and I gave a soft little sigh of pleasure. At this time on Saturday morning, the traffic would be streaming along the motorway, angry drivers honking loudly at the unending traffic, eager to be on their way. I was grateful not to join them. I let my eyes linger on the crystal-clear water and smiled at the sharp contrast the countryside provided. If I shifted my head lightly, I could see beyond the unending blue and spy small boats with fishermen checking their traps. In the kitchen, I could hear the comforting associated sounds of my mother preparing a delicious brunch for us both. The aromas followed soon after, and I drifted into the kitchen for a bite. My mother was beautiful and didn't look her age at all. People often mistake us for sisters. The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman pulled off summer dresses better than I ever could. I inherited my pale skin from my father while her creamy skin was vibrant with life. She adored cooking and had made a career out of it, delivery lunch boxes to almost every office in town. My stepfather, who was a whiz with numbers and computers, handled the logistics of the business while my mother continued to do what she loved best - cook. I had been unhappy to share my mother's love when I was younger, but he was the best stepfather a girl could ask for. "Coffee?" my mother asked when she saw me enter. "Yes, please," I answered brightly, noticing an odd expression on my normally cheerful mother's face. Her long hair was pulled back and she looked wonderful in the blue and white dress we had bought just a day earlier in town when we were doing her deliveries. She didn't turn around after talking to me, staring at me with eyes that were so bright and sad. "What's wrong, mom? You're looking at me as if I had grown a second head." My mother smiled instantly, trying to dispel the demons in his eyes and when that wasn't convincing enough, she hid them from me by looking away. "Nothing's wrong," she said quickly, loading the table with fruits and piping hot ham-filled omelets garnished with button mushrooms and freshly chopped parsley. Small, crusty rolls emerged from the oven, still warm and smelling heavenly. "I wish I could cook like you," I said at the table. "Why is it that everything I cook comes up tasting like cardboard?" "You just need more practice," she murmured, but we both know that wasn't true. I'd had plenty of practice cooking with her growing up. I just never developed the palate to cook like her. I set the table as she filled the table with more food than either of us could ever finish in a lifetime. I grinned at her enthusiasm, "Are we expecting a party, mom?" There were no delivery boxes around the room today. "I just like to cook for you," she murmured in a rather half-hearted fashion. I sensed a 'but' coming up, but it never appeared. "What's wrong?" I asked, knowing I sounded a little frustrated, but it was mostly fear and anxiety. The last time she had cooked this much was when Chris had been unreachable on his business trip. My stepfather contacted her a day afterwards, reassuring her that he was fine, but by then she had cooked enough for the whole city. We ran out of flat surfaces to put food on. Chris told her that he was robbed on the way to his hotel and his phone was stolen along with most of his money. She flew to him immediately after putting down the phone. "Nothing's wrong," she insisted. "Come, let's have a bite to eat first. I've been looking forward to spending time with you. Just the two of us." I narrowed my eyes at her, distrustful, but sat down and indulge her with an roll and coffee. "You were fine this morning. What happened?" Instead of sitting down on the table with me, she was getting started with another omelet, which was not a good sign. "Mail," she said after a long pause. She waved her hand holding a spatula, trying to appear dismissive but there was a heaviness in her voice that betrayed her. "A letter from Grandfather Pierre," she said finally, enunciating with upmost precision a name that had always upset her. "Grandfather Pierre?" I echoed, the name was ringing no bells. Judging from her tormented exterior, I guessed that it was to do with my father's side of the family. She murmured something intelligible and stared blankly out the window, uncaring that the eggs she had started cooking was sizzling and burning. I rushed to the stove and turned it off. "What does he want?" I asked, my hand on her arm. She didn't even register my touch as she continued to stare at something only she could see. "Do you remember him?" she asked, forlorn, not even caring that the beloved pan Chris had bought for her from France was stained with burnt egg. I shook my head. "You weren't quite five when we left... and I can't believe how much you've grown already. I can't pretend I'm not surprised the letter came at all... I wish they had forgotten about you... But I can't tell you not to go. They're family," she said, words tumbling together and making little sense. "They've invited me to their home?" "Yes, to America. They even wrote you a check in case you needed money." I laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going," I said. "Come on, join me for brunch. It's no fun eating alone while you brood over silly things like forgotten relatives." "I'm not brooding," she said calmly. "Show me the letter. We'll look through it together and figure out what's put you in such an odd mood," I suggested. "No!" she said, her hand going to her pocket immediately to make sure it was still there. She sighed, "It's addressed to me, and it would upset you." "Why would it upset me?" I narrowed my eyes at her. "Your father's family is... interesting," she started, choosing her words with great care. "They were particularly unhappy when I decided to take you away after your father passed. And even unhappier still that I left the country altogether." Casually she broke off a roll and brought a piece to her mouth. She avoided my eyes when she said with false flippantness, "Grandfather Pierre was especially fond of you, Rae. It broke his heart when I took you away. It's not surprising they didn't invite me." "Assholes," I said. "Watch your language!" she scolded, but chuckled a little. "I'm only telling you that they've requested your presence at the castle. Grandfather Pierre is a very powerful man... but I think he may be lonely and wants to see his granddaughter," she said. "The letter also mentioned a rather large inheritance that is available for you, now that you're eighteen." I felt the hair on my arms rise and a static forming around me. "An inheritance?! And where was this money when you needed it?!" She looked back at me with her humorous brown eyes, "I never wanted the family's money, Rae. I wouldn't have taken it even if it was offered to me." "It would've been of them to offer!" I countered. I fell silent for a moment, giving my mother the chance to try and change my mind. "It would be good to see your father's family, darling. Aren't you curious?" "When I was younger, immeasurably," I admitted. "But I'm happy now, mom. I have you and Chris and his crazy family," I said honestly. We were all each other had growing up. Mom took odd jobs around the country to make ends meet, working her way up from dishwasher, to sous chef to owning her own little business. She met Chris a few years ago and having a man around the house had been good for her. She was a lot happier nowadays. Chris had a large family that took us in instantly, inviting us to all their family events and making us feel like we had always been a part of them. "And I don't need their money either. My artwork is selling pretty well online," I smiled, grateful that she let me pursue the dream. "We don't need the money," I paused and looked at her suspiciously, wondering what else she was hiding from me. What was in the letter that she didn't want me to see? "Do we need the money, mother?" "Oh goodness no!" she laughed. "You don't have to go if you don't want to, darling. But your grandfather is a powerful man. If he wants to see you, I suspect he would be able to find a way to get you there," she said cryptically. "And there are some things about your father that you should know... "What about him?" I asked, a fleeting image of a pale man with bright blue eyes carrying me in his arm appearing in my mind before it was gone again. I didn't remember much about my biological father and she didn't like to talk about him. It always made her sad so I learned to stop asking when I was much younger. "I'm not the right person to ask, darling," she sighed. "But see, you're already curious! It's my duty as your mother to encourage you to spread your wings." "Uh huh," I mumbled dismissively, though my mind was a whirlpool of thoughts. "How much do you remember about the castle?" "Nothing much," I said honestly. I had been sick a lot as a child and didn't remember much about my past other than the brief glimpse of a handsome young man that pictures told me was my father. "The castle is beautiful," she said, "if a little secluded, but that's how they like it. Your grandfather is splendidly rich. As I recall, he owned the whole town as well as one of...