Update: The winner of RAVENOUS is…Ilona! Congrats, Ilona!
Today’s guest author is Sharon Ashwood, and Sharon has one fabulous excerpt to share with us! After reading that preview, oh, I want to read more!
And guess what? Sharon is going to give away a copy of RAVENOUS to one lucky commenter. Very cool.
Welcome!
One kiss is all it takes to lose your soul.
With the right kind of demon, you don’t want to stop there. Mac learned that one a bit too late.
Conall Macmillan—Mac–is a cop who first appears in RAVENOUS, book one of The Dark Forgotten series. He meets Geneva, a gorgeous blonde villainess who gives him a bad case of demon cooties. As the demon infects him, he becomes his own worst nightmare. He turns against the heroine who tries to save him, attempts to gobble up her soul, and generally carries on in a damnably sexy but disreputable way.
Poor, poor Mac. Such a come-down for a heroic detective. He gets booted off the good guy’s team and everything and all he wanted to do was kiss the girl and save the day. Sometimes authors are just plain mean.
The upside is that Mac gets a book of his own called SCORCHED, on the shelves December 1/09. It’s kind of a fairy tale, complete with a sorcerer, goblins, and a damsel in distress. So what if the hero is an ex-cop demon and the damsel is a bit non-standard. Mac never does learn to avoid those Babes of Doom:
***
Constance was definitely more temptation than he could handle. He bent and pressed his lips to hers, perhaps to taste her puzzling smile, perhaps to kiss it away. Or maybe just to prove his expertise.
She inhaled, a quick, light gasp ended by his capture of her mouth. Her lips were
cool and soft, returning his kiss with surprised hesitation. That perfume he had smelled earlier, something flowery and old-fashioned, wafted up from her silken skin. He felt the tentative brush of her fingers in his hair, light as a moth’s wings. Finally, her hand settled on his cheek, a girlish, uncertain touch so gentle that it tickled.
She was no practiced flirt, and he’d just called her bluff.
At a twinge from his conscience, he drew back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …”
She used both hands to pull his head down, bringing his mouth back to hers.
Okay. Mac wasn’t about to argue. Heat surged through him, thick and electric. He drew his hand up her spine, over her ribs, up the side of her breast. Constance flinched, as if he’d touched a bruise, but then murmured in pleasure, rising onto her toes. Her body brushed against his. Oh, yeah. Unexpected, but oh, yeah.
He felt the tip of her tongue meet his, a shy inquiry. Constance tasted as sweet and wild as blackberries still hot from the sun. He could savor her soul, sad and pure, like her smile.
He already ached in his body, but that taste of her spirit made him ache in his heart. He caught the salty tang of loneliness. That’s just not right. Was there no one to look after he? A tiny creature like Constance shouldn’t be out wandering the halls of the Castle by herself. She was so small, he could nearly span her waist with his hands. The fabric of her dress felt rough, too coarse for such tiny perfection. And there was far, far too much clothing for satisfactory
exploration.
Okay, whoa, buddy. In five seconds flat, you’ve gone from sneaking a kiss to planning to get naked with someone you’ve just met. Get a grip.
Heedless, Mac’s fingers slid beneath the flimsy fabric of her scarf, finding soft, cool skin and the gently rounded tops of her breasts. He kept his touch feather light and was rewarded with a delicate shiver. Tracing his thumb over her collarbone, he caressed the satin flesh of her shoulder. Nice.
He deepened the kiss, but kept his beast tightly leashed. Whoever this girl was, she wasn’t ready for his demon side. Hell, most of the time, neither was he.
So sweet.
Yeah, okay, Macmillan, what’s with the hearts and flowers? This isn’t you.
Something was not right.
No shit, Sherlock. Nothing’s been right for over a year. Was it the soul-sucking demon shtick or the eternal prison of darkness that tipped you off? As for the girl …
Mac winced, suddenly going very still. Women. There’s always something.
Yeah, Constance was sweet. The teeth, however, were a surprise.
Gently, he pulled away. Her eyes were closed, her lips flushed and slightly parted to reveal tiny, perfect fangs. A vampire. But an innocent one that sent off none of the usual vampiric vibes. There was only one way that happened.
Constance had never tasted blood.
Pheromones. That answered why she had fascinated him so completely, sent him head over heels in less time than it took your average speed date.
But it raised still another interesting question.
A really good one.
Am I meant to be her first kiss or her first kill?
***
I have to say that demons are the most fun creatures to write ever. For one thing, there are few preconceived ideas about what, exactly, they’re supposed to be like. The sky—or the depths of the underworld—are uncharted limits. I could take a guy who’d lost everything—his job, his friends, his humanity—and find a completely unique way of giving him back his life. So he’s a demon. That doesn’t make him a lost cause. Just a little, um, challenging …
What do you with a guy who’s so hot, he leaves you scorched?
