“Have I plunged from my lofty pedestal, Kate?” The sound of his throatily intoned words filled the air, a swirling mist of enticement apparent in each syllable. “Has the hideousness of my past diminished any of the esteem you may have held?”
“No.”
Her candidly issued response sent a tremor of unspoken relief running through him. She struggled to breathe, inhaling the spicy masculine scent radiating from him. Her body thrummed at his proximity and she swayed. Her heart thundered as his head lowered, the tip of his heated tongue grazing her lower lip and moistening the sensitive flesh. A low-pitched moan escaped her at the tentative touch and her lids fluttered downwards, her body suffusing with an all too familiar flame. Her hands slipped from the pockets of her robe and settled on his shoulders as she tried to remain steady. Kate floundered to suck in a wisp of a strangled gasp as the pressure of his lips brushed her jaw, leaving behind a scintillating trail of fire. Except for the gentle pressure of his mouth against her tender flesh, he didn’t place a hand on her. Kate felt an uncontrollable restlessness arising within her as his hair brushed her face, the unhurried descent of his lips along her neck evoking exasperating quivers of arousal.
“Order me to stop, Kate.” The murmured words were urgently against her skin, hunger evident in each syllable. “Tell me to leave you well enough alone.”
Pulsating with need, Kate grasped at his shirt, her fingers twisting into the material as she rose to the tips of her toes. Dante exhaled deeply, the warmth of his breath inciting an excited chill to rise on her overly sensitized flesh.
“Stop me, Kate.” He groaned, the weak plea issued into her ear. “Stop me and I won’t touch you.”

“I’ve got to find her. She could be in danger,” Emma mumbled and turned to leave.

“No, Emma, listen to me. You have to stay out of the middle of this!”

She glared at him. “She doesn’t have anyone, Shawn.”

He groaned loudly, and cursed again. Emma needed to stay away! Why was he always unable to say no to this woman?

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

He had to convince her to try Jason’s house before going after Freddie Garrett like the crazy woman had a mind to do. He thought she was unreasonable and overemotional and impossible to please, but he also knew he was madly in love with her. “I’m pretty sure she’s with Ice. She took off the earrings earlier, but the team said they were sure she was with a guy.”

It didn’t take them long to make the trip. A Lexus pulled up behind them in the driveway. It was Jason. “What are you guys doing here? What’s wrong?”

Emma answered. “We’re looking for Leigh.”

Jason swallowed back the panic that those words immediately caused. Leigh was probably just inside. Why the hell hadn’t he come straight home like he’d wanted to? Because Nate said he needed your help and you couldn’t say no, and you convinced yourself that she was smart enough to wait for you. “I just got home. Let’s see if she’s here,” he said calmly.

No one expected to see the house in shambles or Leigh on her knees in Jason’s living room when they walked in. Slick stood in front of her where it looked as if he’d just pushed her there. The air of the house grew thick with expectation as Slick pointed a gun at the three in the doorway. “Come in and shut the door,” he said.

They did as they were told. Instinct directed everyone’s hands up in the air. Leigh was staring at the floor, her face hidden behind her thick, black hair.

Shawn took a step closer, but made no move to draw his own weapon. No one spoke at first, afraid to disrupt the scene or upset the man with the gun.

Slick directed his attention to Jason. “I did a little redecorating. Hope you don’t mind, Ice.” Then, he looked to Shawn. “Just the man I’m looking for. My boss would like to see you, Shawn.”

Emma gasped. Jason’s eyes remained glued to Leigh. Shawn said, “Let my sister go.”

The look in Slick’s eyes never wavered. He continued to look Shawn in the eye when he suddenly backhanded Leigh across the face so hard that a noise echoed in the room as if he’d hit a wall.

Leigh moaned softly. She still did not look at anyone, eyes shut and head bent to the floor.

Jason reacted without thinking when he charged Slick. He was brought up short when the gun redirected to point between his eyes. “Don’t be a hero,” Slick’s velvety voice murmured.

The emotion could be seen surging through Jason as veins popped from his neck. “Stop this!” he roared.

Slick kicked Leigh in the side and repeated, “My boss would like to offer you a job, Shawn.”

Emma began to cry.

Shawn only stared.

Leigh took another kick that made her scream in pain.

Shawn broke his silence. “What do you want from me?”

“You’re a pretty smart guy. I’m sure you can figure out what it means to be on Freddie’s payroll.”

Slick jerked Leigh back to her knees and punched her. “I need an answer, Shawn.”

Emma cried out, “Please, stop this!”

Shawn stepped forward. Tears glistened in his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it.”

Slick withdrew a wad of cash from his right pocket and threw it on the floor. “That will get you started. Freddie will expect to see you at the club to confirm that answer. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I’ll be back to finish this if you don’t cooperate, and I mean soon.”

As soon as the man was gone, Jason was by Leigh’s side. “Leigh, talk to me, sweetheart.”

She was unconscious.

“Call 9-1-1!”

Excerpts from the novel TOMORROW’S WORLD by Steve Nelson
TOMORROW’S WORLD is an erotic Science Fiction novel by Steve Nelson. A man from the 20th Century awakens from a high tech hibernation experiment centuries in the future. In this future world nudity is the norm and sex is the passion.
…”HELLO” he said. “My name is Vin147, […]

A Gay Fiction Novella - CARNAL CRAVINGS
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Craven and his friend Anthony discover they’re in over their heads the night they’re caught spying on Beresford Hall. But when Craven meets the dark, mysterious Dominic Beresford, he wonders if fate really does step in and take you by surprise when you […]

CROSSROADS REVISITED, Second novella in the series
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Blurb: Private Investigator, Frank McGuire tracks down another serial killer, but this time it’s personal. Real personal. The maniac has killed five young college students and Rand Brennan is his next target. That pisses Frank off.
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Uttering soothing words of comfort, Val sank to her knees before the elderly woman. She carefully pried the guilt frame from her grandmother’s strong grip. There was a moment’s struggle before the woman relented and allowed her to take the frame. Val held a baited breath as she turned the precious remnant of the woman’s past over and stared at the sepia colored images of long ago.

Old Russia was evident in the photo, a land that didn’t exist any longer. A figure, that Val immediately recognized as her grandmother as a child, stood at the forefront of the faded photograph. Dressed in a short white frock and black calf high boots, typical of the era, Val judged her to be six or seven years of age. Immensely proud, the child was beaming at the photographer.

However, it was not her grandmother’s childish image that caught Val’s attention. There, the moment forever captured in time, was a startling figure. She lifted her puzzled gaze to the elderly woman, her normally inquisitive mind spinning.

“I was six.” Her grandmother managed in a low whisper, brusquely waving an imperious hand at her daughter-in-law, ordering her away. Val’s mother, forever respectful, slipped back into the far recesses of the kitchen. “The Imperial Court was on holiday. Their caravan went through our humble town. Great stallions, proud uniforms, it was a moment of great importance for anyone to see.” She smiled, her faded eyes as faraway as the memories. “My mother, she made me wear my best dress, in case the royal family would stop in the streets. “ She smiled wistfully. “The entire village turned out for the event that day, lining the main road. We all wanted to catch a glimpse of the royal family, not realizing it would be the last time we would ever be privileged to see such again.”

“The revolution?”

“A few months later, the revolution would occur.” Her grandmother conceded with a nod and a grimace. “The handsomest of the court was the youngest baron. Women would swoon when he entered a room, attired in his official uniform. I,” She pressed a forefinger to her chest to emphasize. “Little me, in my best dress, happened to draw his attention. He rode on his great charger to my side. He was so dashing, in his uniform, with his devilish smile. I fell in love with him, at that moment.”

Val smiled tightly. Her grandmother could recall a six year old girl’s fanciful crush upon a member of the royal court. After all of these years, it seemed as if the Baron had made an everlasting impression.

“The baron, he dismounted from his horse. He approached me, smiling, with those strangely colored eyes. He took the simple spray of flowers that I held and he thanked me.”

“The picture?”

“A man in the village wanted the picture for posterity. The baron waited, patiently permitting me a moment in time to remember for the rest of my life.”

Val exhaled a strangled breath as she peered back at the image. Her grandmother’s twisted finger trembled as she touched the glass, trailing over the photograph. She stopped on the image of the man that stood at her youthful side.

“Baron Demetri Ivanovich Sergei Daskova Petronov.” She whispered. “The year is nineteen sixteen.”

Petronov. Val remembered it as the name carved upon the dead man.

Val sat heavily down upon the carpet. She felt shock, awed as she stared into the face of the man. He was, beyond a doubt, the exact image of the individual that had been in their presence. The resemblance was startling.

“He is the great-grandson, Babushka?”

“No, child.” The old woman shook her head disdainfully, her gaze straying to the still filled cup of now cold tea.

“Babushka,” Val began heavily. The old woman turned back toward her with the unmistakable expression of dread written upon her face.

“The Baron Petronov supposedly died unmarried, three weeks before the revolution.” She continued heavily, reverting back to her mother tongue. “He had never taken a wife nor had he sired children.”

“This man,” Val began, a chill washing over her flesh as she looked up into the face of the woman that had regaled her with so many fanciful tales in her childhood.

“Upyr, Valentina.” Her grandmother whispered in deep and ominous tones. “The man, the man that was here,” She pressed her fingers to her heart. “This man is upyr.”

Vampire

“What do you presume I am, Evangeline?”

Again, there was that damnable smirk, although his eyes said otherwise. She wondered if he truly dreaded what he was about to reveal to her.

“Tabloid fodder says, in order to be one of your elite crew members, you either have a pact with the devil or you’re a vampire.” She scoffed at the absurdity of the words even as she uttered them.

“In other words, you believe in the probability that I am of some other creation, besides human? ” He left the question hanging in the air as he took a hesitant step toward her.

She shrugged. “Are you a vampire?”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound deep and smoky as it filled the room. He seemed purely amused by the assumption and continued to chuckle lightly as he wiped the trace of mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Ah, my dear, I am not a blood crazed vampire.” He calmed himself and Evangeline felt the heat of color flood her face. Lucien forced himself to continue with marked levity. “You may rest assured that your lovely neck is perfectly safe this night.”

“Do you have a pact with the devil?” The words were pronounced with great effort and Eva felt herself become chilled to the bone.

“No. There isn’t a pact with the devil.”

Eva knew she would have been ignorant to miss the particular stress he had placed on his response.

“Are you one of the undead?”

“I cannot be in league with the undead if I have never experienced the blessing of death.” He supplied the answer so simply, as if he were discussing the events of the weather, although she did catch the faintest sense of remorse and irony that clouded his words.

“D’Angel.”

The pronunciation of the name fell from her numb lips. She realized as she said the word that it did seem to fit him, oddly enough. He did bring to mind the paintings she had seen of angels in her youth, elaborate images that had filled the stained glass windows at the church her parent’s had attended. Those same angels had been pale and glowing, radiating with a serenity that was undefinable. Nevertheless, there was something else. There was some sort of…she was not aware of what, precisely, even though the angelic reference to Lucien D’Angel hit a distinctly sour note.

Angel’s Fire, Demon’s Blood is available at www.Amazon.com and http://wildhorsepress.webs.com

Kira passed more than a thousand trees draped in twisted vines and slithering black serpents. On a fool’s mission, caught in a hopeless labyrinth of never-ending circles, twists and bends, despair found her. For hours, she’d been in the forest, running in circles, trudging through sweltering swamps and breath-sucking tropical forests. Wearily, she dropped onto […]

Decadent Deceptions finaled in the 2008 Molly Contest (erotic catergory)! Explicit sex and voyeurism. Olivia stuck her nose to the wall and scanned the room through the peephole. A canopy of billowing red silk framed the four-poster bed, and nude portraits of men and women, their limbs entwined, graced the walls. Soft light from tapered candles on […]

Gavin turned to the sound of the door opening. Sophia stood under the archway, her slender body drenched in a pale shaft of moonlight. She wrung her hands, her small toes pointed inward. Stammering, she said, “I . . . I came to check on your wound.” She glanced at Ricochet lying on the bed. […]

A social worker in hiding discovers her insolent neighbor belongs to the gang with a price on her head. 
ZOOM! The Harley-Davidson revs up as it passes in the night. Jen Murray’s cabin walls shudder. She knows it’s only a matter of time until the motorcycle returns. The answering yips of her pup, Spooky, irritate her […]

Prologue
“Where is she?” Jora Brynhild, leader of the Valkyries, strode through the halls of Valhalla, her feathered cape slapping against her legs.   
“She was in her room–.”
Jora pushed past the Valkyrie who’d been charged with keeping an eye on Jora’s sister–to stop her from doing something foolhardy. Rune stones covered the small bedside table. […]

“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Sam called this morning and said she was leaving. I wasn’t sure how long your brother was staying so I figured I could pitch in and help out. It’s the least I can do for you after what you did for Raya.”
His quick temper flared. Her crossed signals […]

Sam decided she had allowed the sparring to go on long enough. With a swift jab of her fist into his stomach, then a high kick to his jaw, she laid Kong on his back. Just like before she sat on his chest, pinning his arms with her knees. Kong looked up at her and […]

“What are you?” Denise asked peeking through the crack of the opened door. 
“What do you mean what am I? I’m Markey Neville, your friend.” 
“No. I saw you in that alley. You aren’t human. You were glowing, your eyes were like fire. My God you threw those men around like they were rag dolls. No human […]