Okay, for the Tuesday Teaser, here's a short excerpt from Night's Fall. This was originally titled Darkness Awaits. There's been major changes made, and it's been greatly expanded too.
Prologue
A
CHILL raced up Michael’s back, and his muscles tightened at the sound of heavy
breathing behind him. Coolness pressed against his back. Sharp, pointed teeth
nipped along his jugular. A hand ran down the front of his shirt, torturing his
pierced nipple through the thin material before moving on to the next.
“The
wait is almost over. Soon we’ll be together.”
The
possessiveness of those words should’ve scared him, but they didn’t.
Each
shirt button was undone, and Michael’s breath stalled when chilly fingers
brushed his skin. Michael tensed.
“Remember
to breathe, beautiful.”
A
gentle nudge sent the shirt sliding off his body to pool at his feet. His dream
lover’s hands moved down Michael’s sides, stroking and tracing each rib. They
stopped at the waist of his jeans. Michael’s heart sped up when his jeans were
unbuttoned. Damned if it wasn’t a slow, teasing process.
A
hard cock pressed against his ass. Jeez, someone was hung like a moose. Warm
breath huffed against his neck, distracting him from his lover’s hands moving
to the waistband of his boxers.
“Touch
me, dammit.” A desperate yearning ignited in Michael, one he’d never known. “I
need your hands on me.”
Mesmerized,
Michael watched long elegant, fingers with black nails scrape across his belly,
leaving faint red lines but not drawing blood.
Wait.
Wait. Black nails? Really long,
black, pointy nails? A small tentacle of fear wiggled through the mist of
pleasure blanketing his mind.
“Relax,
beautiful, and just feel. You know I won’t hurt you.” The voice whispering in
his ear sounded hissy and… and… nonhuman.
The
fear retreated. He did know his lover
wouldn’t hurt him. He’d been having the dreams since he was sixteen, after all.
Even if they were a bit frightening, they were also arousing. In his lover’s
arms, he was safe… safe and cared for. Wanted.
“I’m
going make you scream when I finally bond with you. Then I’m going to make you
beg for more,” he hissed in Michael’s ear.
“Fuck.”
Could words alone make a person come? He was damn well willing to find out.
He
tried to grind back against his dream lover, determined to force the issue. A
soft chuckle echoed in his ear as the top of his boxers were eased down and his
shaft sprang free. The touches on his cock were featherlight, making him groan.
Shit, he needed more.
“Harder,
do it harder.”
“Love
how responsive you are.”
Thrusting
his hips, he tried to push his cock harder into that demanding, tight grip. He
wanted to come, dammit.
“Soon,
beautiful. Just remember you have nothing to fear from me. I have waited years
for you.”
The
strident blast of his alarm jerked Michael awake. Dear God, not again. Lately
all he did was dream of a sexy stranger whose magic hands and wicked tongue
left him yearning for things found only in fairytales.
There
was something slightly off about the man he dreamed of, though. Something…
dark. Not really evil, but wicked. Haunting, dangerous, and powerful. Ruthless.
Too bad the man was a figment of his imagination.
Michael
ran his hands through his hair. Ugh. Sweaty. He cleared his throat, gagged, and
started coughing. Shit. He needed his cough medicine, then coffee—buttloads of
coffee. Why couldn’t they make cough medicine taste like coffee?
Tossing
the sheet off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His head spun from
the movement. Shit, he was weak. Stupid fucking flu. Since he was perspiring,
hopefully that meant his fever had broken and he was on the mend.
A
noise caught his attention. He glanced up, listening. It sounded like his
family was about ready to leave on their trip to Las Vegas. He needed to get up
and see them off, but fuck, he was exhausted, and he’d just woken up.
Almost
as if summoned, there was a knock at his door. Michael smiled. He should’ve
known if he didn’t go to them, they’d come to him. “Come in.”
The
door opened, and Michael’s mom, dad, and brother crowded in the entrance.
“Hey,
guys.”
“Hey,
sweetie, we’re about to leave. How are you doing? Any better?” Mom walked in
and immediately pressed her hand against Michael’s forehead. “Hmmm.”
“Yeah,
I think the fever broke, so I guess I’m going to live. Of course, the only
direction to go was up, considering I felt like death.”
“Make
sure to drink plenty of fluids while we’re gone, and don’t overdo it either. I
made sure the fridge is stocked, and speaking of that, I left the doctor’s
office number on it, just in case. Oh! And you remember where the spare key is,
right?” Mom wrung her hands. “Oh dear, you really are still pale. Maybe I
shouldn’t go—”
Shit.
“Mom—”
“Judy,
he’s twenty-five, not five.” Dad walked into the room and rubbed Mom’s back.
“Give the boy a break. It’s not as if we’re traveling to the other side of the
world. Just Vegas. He’ll be fine.”
“Hush,
Gerald. I’m in the middle of a minibreak down, and you’re distracting me.”
“Yes,
hon.” Dad tugged her arm. “Come on, love. I’m sure you need to walk through the
house one more time to make sure we
got everything. The kitchen sink isn’t packed yet, I think.”
Mom
frowned. “I’m aware of what you’re doing, you devious man, and now I have to do
it again since you mentioned it. This time you’re going with me.”
Dad
put his hand over his heart. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”
Mark
rolled his eyes. Michael shook his head at his brother. Their parents cracked
him up.
“I’ll
remind of you of that later, dear.” Mom turned back to Michael. “We love you,
sweetie. Call if you need anything.”
“I
will, Mom. Love you guys too.”
Dad
winked as he followed Mom out. Unfortunately, Mark stayed.
Mark
leaned against the doorframe. “Damn, you look like death. No, no… more like
death warmed over.”
“Let’s
see what you’d look like after a week of this crap. In fact, why don’t you come
a little closer? I’m suddenly feeling the need to cough.”
Mark
snorted, running his hand down his shirt. “Phlegm wouldn’t go with my look,
sorry. Think this is close enough, Typhoid Mary.”
“Jerk,”
Michael croaked. Lord, he sounded like he’d swallowed a frog. “She was
asymptomatic, and clearly I am not. Not to mention she had typhoid. I have the
damn flu.”
“Still
deadly.”
Michael
muttered some interesting threats.
Mark
laughed. “Creative, but I don’t think that last one is physically possible.”
“Have
I mentioned how nice it’s going to be with you gone for a week? Almost makes
being sick worth it.”
Mark
hiked an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re going to miss my sparkling
personality, and you know it.”
“Keep
telling yourself that.” Michael coughed. Mark needed to leave before he was
treated to something he’d just soon not see. “You better get going before Mom
really does pack the kitchen sink.” Michael shooed Mark out of his room. “Call
me when you to the hotel.”
“Can
do.” Mark grinned, but it faded. “Seriously, take care of yourself. I’m going
miss you.”
Dad
yelled for Mark. “Son, get a move on before I have to buy more luggage. Your
mother is looking at the bathroom sink
now.”
“Good
grief, Mark, how much did she pack?”
Mark
cackled. Loudly.
“You
better go. I’ll miss you too. And hey, make sure she doesn’t spend the whole
trip worrying about me, okay? Have fun and try not to get into too much
trouble.”
“Me?
Why, I’m as pure as the driven snow.”
“Driven
slush is more like it.”
“Exactly.”
Winking, Mark strolled out of Michael’s room.
Chapter
One
A
BLEAK wind blew over the freshly dug graves. Michael knuckled his eyes, the
ever-present tears blurring his vision. The trip to Las Vegas that his parents
saved for hadn’t been a dream vacation. It turned into a nightmare—one that
cost them their life.
A
fucking mugging, of all things. Killed for the money in their wallets. They
were dead, and Mark was missing. Even now, several weeks later, the cops still
didn’t have any fucking leads on Mark’s disappearance. Michael was slowly
losing his mind.
Another
cool breeze swept across the graveyard. Michael shuddered. Sharp pain stabbed
his heart. How was he supposed to do this alone? He wasn’t sure he could. Their
family had been close. Mom served dinner every Sunday night, and he and Mark
were expected to show. Hell, they wanted to
be there. It was fun. Then they’d watch the late football game.
Michael
bit the inside of his cheek. Pain was the only thing keeping him from breaking
down. If he gave into the urge, he’d be hysterical in a matter of seconds.
Turning, he left the graveside.
He
didn’t know how to get through each day.
