A bluffer's guide to... Paranormals

by Olivia Knight

With the beautiful new Black Lace covers came three new lines: paranormals, contemporaries, and historicals. Over the next three Wednesdays, we’ll be rounding up their pretty pictures and offering a bluffer’s guide to each line.

Top facts:
Black Lace line: paranormals
Colour: purple
Committed Lusties, past and present: Janine Ashbless, Portia Da Costa, Mathilde Madden, Olivia Knight, Kristina Lloyd, Madelynne Ellis

In a nutshell
‘Paranormal’ means fantasy, fairytale, magic, myth, mysterious beasties, and things that go bump! in the night. Some just bump! and some bumpitty-bumpitty-bump.

Behind the scenes
This is the line of books which made our editor decree “If they’re going to sleep with it, it has to have a human head!” Now you can imagine the story proposals that didn’t get the official stamp of approval. Rejected non-human-head lovers included dragons, trees, and minotaurs. Giant scorpions with human heads snuck in the back door.

The heroes
Even the most thigh-slappingly normal bloke will have his secret identity. He may appear to be an environmental activist, a university student, a tourist, a local musician, or an arctic explorer, but he’ll turn out to be a magician, a ghost, a member of an ancient race, a god, or a vampire. He probably faces a daily struggle not to accidentally kill you, but the chances are good your love was foredestined in a previous lifetime / by a prophecy / by an inescapable supernatural tie.

The heroines
Alpha-females to a woman: there’s no time for simpering flowers when you’re locked in a battle against forces what man was not meant to wot of. These chicks are tough: they’ll gut ex-lovers, eat snakes to survive, lead armies, face down the devil, catch werewolves, exorcise demons, endure bitter physical hardship, and wield insane amounts of power. They’re queens, time-travellers, priestesses, sorceresses, reincarnated witches, and goddesses, although at first glance they may seem to be a landscape gardener, a barmaid, or a student. Won't say: "No, don't... we shouldn't..." Will say: "CHARGE!"

The best bit about writing paranormals
• You can let your imagination out its cage and have an iron-clad reason for keeping your hero in a cage
• Sleeping is reclassified as research: after all, you have to know what it’s like to fly
• All your delusions of grandeur find their home

The best bit about reading paranormals
• Destiny! Contemporary couples just have this feeling they’re meant for each other – in paranormals, the elves said so. Or the stars, or an ancient scroll, or a forgotten prophecy, but you get the picture.
• Mystery! Magic and mystery are hand-in-glove: unpeeling the layers to the final truth makes gripping reading.
• Sex! In other lines, it’s emotionally and physically important – in paranormals, it can literally move the world.

Top tip: internal logic
Unlike historicals and contemporaries, you can make up your own rules and create your own world, but beware: within your world, the logic has to be absolute and consistent. We’ll happily accept chickens building airplanes, but they still need fuel to fly.

What to say
• "Is it cheating to sleep with someone from another dimension?"
• "Fantasy and myth are a powerful way to explore subconscious desires."

What not to say
• "Yeah, but that couldn’t really happen, could it? I mean, [insert-supernatural-beings] don’t exist, do they?"

Over to you:
• What’s your favourite ‘paranormal’ fantasy?
• What mythical-magical hero type do you fancy most?

Wolf Month

By Mathilde Madden

I'll be back on Friday to talk about wolves in depth. But I'm just here today to nudge our American readers in the direction of two werewolfy books released today. Possession - the second Black Lace paranormal novella collection (featuring me, Madelynne Ellis and Anne Tourney) and The Silver Cage - the final book of my werewolf trilogy.

---

PS:

The winner of a copy of L is for Leather is Limecello. Congratulations! E-mail your details to lustbitesladies[at]yahoo[dot]com and we'll send you your prize.

Return to GothicWorld...

GOTHIC HEAT by Portia Da Costa

Ten years ago, I wrote a paranormal erotic romance called Gothic Blue. It did quite well and a lot of people said that they really, really liked it... and one or two said they'd love to read a sequel. At the time, I felt that I'd wrapped up the story pretty well, and I couldn't quite see how I could return to the setting and the characters, so I moved on and wrote other books and forgot about the sequel notion altogether...

Then, last year, when our Black Lace editor was urging us to give him some paranormal ideas, I very whimsically suggested that it might be fun to do a Gothic Blue sequel, not really sure he'd take me seriously, mainly because I wasn't all that serious about it myself... but lo and behold, shortly after, there were contracts and delivery dates and whatnot, and I was committed to it!

Luckily, there were a few loose ends in Gothic Blue, and one of them was a character called Paula. She had a serious brush with the evil sorceress Isidora Katori, that turned out to have pretty far reaching consequences... and Gothic Heat became the story of those consequences.

In the clip below, Paula is visiting her new friend and lover Rafe at the therapy centre where he works. But unbeknownst to Rafe, Paula has a little problem that she's not yet had chance to tell him about... the possessing spirit of the wicked seductress, Isidora.

Rafe gripped the oil bottle tightly, fighting for breath. He experienced a disorientating sense of doubling that made him giddy, and for a second, he seemed to see two women on the couch. It was like a drug trip, as if someone had loaded his massage oil with peyote and he’d absorbed it through his skin. Paula’s dark hair looked silkier, longer and lusher; and her eyes were slanted and imperious, assessing him as if he were sexual meat for her delectation. Her body was simply sublime, full of breast and sumptuous of hip. Her serviceable black knickers were gone, discarded on the floor to reveal the perfect, fragrant triangle of her bush. She held out her hand to him like a queen, and he walked towards her.

‘Mmmm…’ Taking the bottle of oil from him, she pulled the stopper and sniffed deeply, smiling to herself. Then, in a sudden violent gesture, she hurled the thing across the room, laughing as the oil arced from it, flying like a pale yellow ribbon. ‘A pretty scent,’ She adjusted herself on the table, slithering around until she was perched on the edge, ‘but artificial, my Rafe, too artificial.’ Parting her legs, she offered him something that was both natural and beyond nature instead.

Rafe gasped, dragging in both oxygen and the odour of Paula’s genitals. The room was filled with lavender, but it seemed to come from a distance, and through a filter. Only the essence of woman had real truth, and real meaning.

Staggering slightly, he fell to his knees and pressed his face between her thighs, aware of great well of tightly focused heat, emanating not from her sex but the white curve of her belly. He tried to lift his head and search for a visible mark or glow, and for a moment he imagined he saw a slight, raised pattern on her skin. But before he could get a closer look she pressed down hard on the top of his head, forcing him to pleasure her.

She was hot, fragrant, and intoxicatingly delicious. A million impressions crowded his senses, both ordinary and unusual. The taste of Paula was like power itself, infinitely greater than his own puny gifts. Supping at her earthy juices, his mind seemed to expand and a rainbow of twenty thousand colours exploded in his head.

‘Yes! Yes! That’s marvellous. More of that!’ she goaded him as he flicked his tongue over her. Swift, deft hands dug into his scalp, cramming his face against the juncture of her thighs. Rafe felt as if he were drowning, drowning so fast and hard that he’d probably expire just at the moment of her extreme pleasure. His cock was a rod of agony that seemed to belong to another man.

Harder and harder he licked, covering every bit of her sex, licking her clit and her lips, and sipping at her entrance. She writhed against him, sultry and serpentine, groaning and shouting, praising him with a string of lurid profanities, language even fouler and more extreme than even he’d ever comfortably used himself. Her heels bashed against his back and his entire head felt as if it were on fire. His eyes were shut but somehow he seemed to see a burning, setting sun, searing his vision and extinguishing his self control.

When he sucked hard on her clit, she howled like a banshee. But instead of falling back and surrendering herself to orgasm and pleasure, she surged off the massage bench and knocked him backwards, so he sprawled on the wooden floor and slid in the spilt oil. As he lay there with the wind knocked out of him, dimly away of shards of glass digging into his shoulders and back, she climbed astride him, and knelt over his pelvis, her dark triangle hovering tauntingly over his loins.

‘So, sex-god, do you have a condom in you pocket?’ she jeered. Then without waiting for an answer, she inclined over him, feeling around and under him into the pocket of his yoga pants. Her fingers felt hot through the thin cloth, and with deadly accuracy, they secured and prised out the contraceptive he’d might have used if he’d been able to bring himself to fuck Barbara Butcher what seemed like a century ago.

In a swift sharp yank that had him bouncing and swinging up to slap his belly, she dragged down his trousers and handling him ruthlessly, she rolled the latex jacket onto him.

Then with no further ado, she sat down hard, taking every bit of him into her with one voracious lunge.

It was like plunging into the heart of a black star, burning hot, yet at the same time utterly dark. He’d never felt anything quite like it, not even with this same woman, last night in the alley.

GOTHIC HEAT is published on the 3rd April in the UK and on the 27th May in the US and is available from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

Happy reading!

Portia Da Costa
Fourteen long years at the Black Lace coal face

PS. Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Gothic Heat.

Silver Werewolves Book 2: The Silver Crown

By Mathilde Madden

I know, I know, book one has only just come out in the US and already the UK is getting the sequel. But don't worry - no spoilers if you haven't read book one yet, just a hot little snippet and the chance to win your own copies of both Book One: The Silver Collar and Book Two: The Silver Crown.

(By the way, although book 2 would make sense on its own, the books are best read in order.)

So I won't say too much, just that this is the heroine of all three books, Iris, out doing her job, with her ex-husband and fellow werewolf hunter Blake.

Blake flicked his mic back up. He turned his body a couple of degrees and lined himself up square on with Iris. He smiled. One of his nasty ones. 'Right then.'

Iris stared at him. She felt suddenly very, very alone in a dark park with a predatorily scary man. She shook herself – again. Not a scary man. Just Blake. Blake. Ex-husband, Beast loving, werewolf hunter Blake. 'Right then, what?' she said, horrified when her voice came out as a crackling whisper.

'No more bloody messing around. I'm going to fuck you now, Iris.'

The corners of Iris's mouth twitched into a smile. She almost laughed. 'What?'

'You heard me.'

'What? Blake. Don't. Stop it. We need to go back and help Pepper. She's got two lycs down there not to mention Pure – whatever he is.'

Blake cocked his head. His movements had suddenly gone all sinuous and seductive. Prowly. 'All tranqued, baby,' he purred. 'Pepper can handle it.' He took a couple of steps towards Iris.

'Blake? What about the other one?'

'We can’t track it without a sighting. We need to wait for Pepper to get back to us.' Blake was too close now. He reached out and touched Iris's hair, brushing a few stray strands out of her eyes and then reaching around and pulling out the band that held her pony tail, letting his fingertips tickle the back of her neck. It was a familiar gesture. One he used to do all the time. It was his pre-sex thing. When they were dating and when they were married, he would do this at home, in the office, he did it once at Iris's cousin's wedding. His thin dry fingertips had the perfect texture for this move. They played – just for a spare moment – around the very start of her spine. That achingly vulnerable spot where her brain slunk into her body.

His voice was silk, smoke. 'Come on, Iris. You always did used to like it out of doors. Out of breath. Out of…, of control. You want to fight me a bit first? Wrestle? See who gets to be on top. I know you usually can best me, but I really want to win tonight and sometimes that can give me enough edge. Want to try me. I really want to win, Iris. Flip you over. Fuck you like an animal. I wonder why I should be thinking that way.'

Iris was shaking her head. Slowly, her disbelief winning out over her growing, conflicted arousal. 'Blake…? Have you gone nuts? What on earth makes you think I'm going to have sex with you? I'm with Alfie. You know that. In fact, I know that you know that because you have been acting practically psychotic about it a lot of the time.' But Iris hadn't moved away from Blake and his hands were on her shoulders.

Blake moved his right hand and played with the collar of Iris's shirt. 'Yeah? Does he know that? You know you can’t trust a lyc, Iris. He'll always betray you. They might look human, but they're not. They'll always put their own kind first. You saw that in the basement.'

Iris took a single step back. Away from Blake. Shaking her head. He watched her, almost as if he was just curious about what she might do. Like everything she did faintly amused him.

She moved fast. She kicked Blake hard in the shin and turned to run. She started pounding away across the playground and across the park. But Blake already wasn't far behind her, shouting something about her wanting to play games.

Iris tried to sprint, but she was exhausted from pursuing the lyc. Her muscles were screaming too soon and she felt Blake almost at her shoulder. She swerved as she anticipated his tackle, but missed her footing in the pitted ground, going down hard on the grass.

Blake had her. He had dived half on top of her and he hauled himself up her body, rolling her onto her back. He had her arms pinned under his knees as he straddled her and he got his face very close in hers. He took hold of her chin, running the pad of his thumb across her lips. She jerked her head away. 'Blake. Get off me.'

'No.' Blake ducked his head, stuck out his tongue and licked her top lip.

'God, Blake.' Iris was panting now and it wasn't from the run.

Blake stared at her for a moment. He was breathing just as hard as she was. He narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to work something out. Then he said, 'I know you know that I'm not a good man, Iris. But even I – your special nightmare - am not going any further with this game until you give me permission.'

'What?'

'Well, I don't want to get done for sexual harassment now, do I, Iris? Look, I'm going to give you a chance now. One chance. If you want to walk away, right now, I'll let you.'

Underneath him Iris almost spat. 'You'll let me!'

'Yeah. I'll be kind and let you get away.'

'You let me get away! I don’t need you to… Fuck you, Blake.' Iris almost spat it.

'I'm not the one about to get fucked. I'm going to fuck you. Just like you want me to. I'll even carry on playing the bad man for you, if you like, so you can tell yourself it was all my fault. You can fight me as hard as you want. You can hurt me – kick me in the balls, I know that's your favourite move – I don't care. Fight me. But I'll win, Iris. Because I want you more than you want me to stop. I know you, Iris. I know what you need.'

'Blake, have you lost your mind?'


So if you want to win copies of the first book and the newly released The Silver Crown just drop me a comment and growl if you love werewolves (or, actually werewolf hunters since there weren't any werewolves in that scene)

Mat Madden x

The Silver Collar: The US wait is over!

By Mathilde Madden

Oh, but we have some cruel task masters at Black Lace Towers. They do insist on staggered release dates. Meaning that while we are glorying in our new releases here on Lust Bites we always have to include a disclaimer for our beloved US fans - explaining that they will have to wait two more months.

This is the age of the global village - and waiting is hard. But pout no more, because, for The Silver Collar, book one of my much talked about (by me) werewolf trilogy is here, here, HERE!

(Well, okay, here tomorrow - but don't spoil it.)

Over on my blog, right now I have gathered up some of my (really quite glowing) reviews.

Hop over there to see them and leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of the book. (Lusties too - as it's on my blog).

But before you go... A while ago on my own blog I introduced my six main players with snippets that showed them at their best. Here are the snippets I used to introduce my heroine, Iris, and my hero, Alfie. (Apologies to Janine Ashbless for the tongue action in snip 2)

Iris

Iris was noticing the gun far less than Alfie's warm muscular chest pressed against her back or his big arm, tight around her waist.

'Iris.' He nuzzled his face into the angle of her neck and shoulder, licking the sensitive skin there. 'You're the one who wants it.' He said against her spine.

'Wants what?' Iris's voice cracked as she let her head fall back. Alfie buried his head tighter into her flesh and nipped at her skin. Then she was twirling around in his arms, he was pushing her back against a tree. He was kissing her again.

'We have to be quick,' he said, almost as part of the kiss. You can’t take the collar off me until afterwards and you have to take it off before…'

'The moon'll kill you,' Iris said, talking into his hair as he moved down her body, his teeth and lips and tongue everywhere.

'Yes,' said Alfie. 'So quick.' He wrenched her trousers down, lifted her, used the tree for extra support and practically seemed to set her down on his cock.

Iris jerked. Too much, too soon. 'Alfie!'

But Alfie's hands were there on her clit. Those fingers again. Those fingers that had made her come so many times. He was supporting her with the tree, with the angle of his body. Her feet were off the floor. The hand that wasn't jammed down between their bodies he brought up and touched her face. Then he pushed two of his big fingers into her mouth. Filling her there too. In. Out. Stopping her cries as her orgasm began to rush fast towards her. He held her then. Found her tipping point, her edge and held her on it, stilling his cock inside her, his thumb on her clit, his two big fingers fucking her mouth. Iris shuddered, waiting for her moment.

Alfie

Iris, kissing Iris. One time he'd taken her out in a punt. Pure Oxford tourist nonsense. But she'd looked so beautiful sitting there, while he powered the boat, by dipping the long pole into the water.

She'd said it had turned her on. Seeing him do that. Something about the pole. They'd found a place to moor the boat and just lain together kissing for hours. He missed kissing for hours. Kissing Iris for hours.

Oxford. Vix. He'd have to see her. He could sense her right now. Out there in the city. He'd been able to sense her since they got off the train at Oxford station.

He moved his palm against his cock a couple more times then forced himself to break off and take it a little slower. Iris. The punt. Pushing her T shirt up to her neck and biting her nipples. He ran his palm over his own hard chest once or twice. His hips thrust up into empty air and then the tease was almost too much. Fuck. Fuck! The wolf always did this too him.

Pinning Iris down in the bottom of the boat. Some water had splashed in from somewhere and they were both getting wet. He'd touched her through her jeans, made her buck just from that. They were so young then. Early twenties. Not a care.

He'd gone to fuck her and she'd said, 'No. I want to see it. On me, not in me.' And she'd touched herself while he did the same, coming over her little tits and making her moan – a little of it splattering over the side of the punt into the Thames.

*

Don't forget my blog for more snippets, the first chapter and, of course, the competition. Just leave a comment and growl if you love werewolves.

And you can step back in time to revisit the wolfie fun that surrounded the UK release.

The Origin of the Silver Werewolves
A Glossary of Selected Terms, Jargon and Classifications
Filthy Excerpt

Mat Madden x
Mathilde Madden on US Amazon
Mathilde Madden on UK Amazon

BUDDIES DON'T BITE

by Portia Da Costa


I always wanted to write a vampire story. I wanted to write one way back in 1996, when I had the idea for GOTHIC BLUE. But at the time, I was advised that vampires=erotic was a bit of a cliché, and that Anne Rice had just about cornered the market in sexy vampires anyway... How bizarre does that sound nowadays, when vampires are one of the most popular themes, perhaps the most popular theme in paranormal erotic romance writing?

Anyway, knowing that I was tackling the vampire genre, my Black Lace chum Janine Ashbless was curious to know how a lover of nice guy heroes and Happily Ever After like me would portray an undead bloodsucker who preys on humans. So she sent me a bunch of questions about BUDDIES DON'T BITE...


Janine Ashbless) How long have you been writing paranormal erotica? Is it something you've always been interested in, or is it a taste that has evolved?

Portia Da Costa) I’ve actually been writing paranormal erotica since the early 80’s. The very first things I ever wrote were a quintet of erotic romance short stories in which the hero was a zombie. When I eventually reached publication standard, the first short story I ever had published – The Man in Black, which appeared in Forum – was a ghost story. My first full length paranormal novel was Gothic Blue, published in 1996. So you could say I’ve always been interested in the juxtaposition of sex and the supernatural.

JA) "Buddies Don't Bite" is the gentlest take on Vampires I think I've read - very romantic and emotional. What made you decide to reject the normal "arrogant predator" type?

PDC) It wasn’t so much that I rejected the ‘arrogant predator’ type, it was more that I was drawn to a different kind of vampire. I was interested in what would happen if a decent, noble, humane man became vampire and was able to retain those qualities of humanity. I wanted to write a proper romance and I used a classic category romance device, the ‘friends to lovers’ story, only where one of the friends just happened to be a vamp.



JA) Why do you think Vampires are so popular with readers? What is it about them that appeals to you in particular?

PDC) That’s hard to quantify. I think it must be something to do with the eternal youth and beauty, the preternatural strength, and the sensuality of taking blood at the neck. I think I probably like vamps for pretty much the same reason as the next reader, the unique blending of danger and sex.

JA) Is there a real life model for your vampire Zack?

PDC) Well, I’ve been going through a phase where many of my heroes are inspired by different faces of one of my favourite actors, Vincent D’Onofrio. Zack is very much a young, romantic Vincent, much as he appeared in the early scenes of the movie Salt On My Skin.

JA) I have a theory that people who like cats like Vampires. They're so much in common: the nocturnal lifestyle, the grace, the aloof independence, the recreational cruelty ... So, are you a big cat fan?

PDC) I’m totally devoted to cats. I’ve lived with them for nearly 30 years and I dote on them as my constant companions. Yes, they are cruel sometimes, but it’s simply a part of their nature, and because they are beautiful, I excuse them. I’m not keen on having to deal with the mice they ‘release’ into the house though!

JA) Zack's a virgin - is the experienced woman/uninitiated man a favourite theme of yours?

PDC) Yes, I think this must be a favourite theme of mine, although I don’t know why. I’ve had ‘innocent’ men in several of my books, including The Tutor, Lessons and Lovers and The Stranger. But my ‘innocents’ are always extremely quick studies and have great instincts where sex is concerned. ;)

JA) How do you feel about writing to novella length?

PDC) I thought it would be hard to write novellas. Too long for a short story, too short for a novel… But actually, I’ve found it quite easy. Almost second nature. It’s possibly because I’m not a great plotter, and the short length means there’s no space for a complex plot, so one of my simple ones works quite well.

JA) What gave you the idea for the wedding setting?

PDC) Well, it’s a classic setting for a romance novel or story, and I think I may perhaps have watched ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’ around the time I was cooking up the idea.

JA) Who's your favourite TV/movie Vampire?

PDC) I think my favourite TV vamp will always be Spike, although I didn’t really start to like him until he began his long, tortuous struggle towards being a good human man again, despite his vampire state. He had many false steps and setbacks, and fell prey to his demon nature again and again, but in the end, he became a true hero. As for movie vamps, my favourites are the diverse Count Draculas of Gary Oldman and Frank Langella. In Gary's interpretation, even though the Count is a ruthless killer, some justification for his actions is offered in the story and in the nuances of his performance. In Frank's there's not quite so much of this justification, although he does give hints of the loneliness of his life and the persecution of his kind...


JA) If you were offered eternal beauty and youth in return for becoming one of the Children of the Night, would you be tempted?

PDC) Yes, I’d be tempted, but only if I could be one of my ‘good’ vampires, and had a like‑minded companion to walk beside me in the eternal night.

JA) Please give us an excerpt from Buddies Don't Bite...

PDC) Here you go, Janine... Teresa and her house buddy Zack are in the kitchen discussing a wedding invitation... and somehow they find themselves kissing!

He had the most glorious backside. Tight and hard and round like a brace of ripe apples. And when she grasped it, he growled in his throat in a most astonishing way. Deep and fierce, like the call of a jungle animal, it bounced off the kitchen walls and filled her ears. If she hadn’t had his tongue in her mouth, Teresa would have said, ‘What the fuck is going on?’

But their tongues were dancing and she felt like growling too.

Deep in her belly, a famished hunger was gnawing at her. It was a long while since she’d had good sex. A real, hard, long wonderful fuck. She’d held back with Steve, and had been hoping this weekend would be their romantic first time. But now, she thanked every lucky star in heaven that she hadn’t succumbed.

She’d never articulated it to herself, but she’d been waiting and saving herself for Zack, sure in the knowledge that her abstinence would be worth it.

Oh, I want you, she cried silently to him, massaging his sensational bottom, and squirreling herself around against his cock.

Zack’s answer was to growl again, a low feral sound. His lips crushed hers, his tongue thrusting, thrusting, just like the sex act. Where the kiss had been gentle and controlled at first, it was clear off the rails now. His mouth started to rove, moving roughly, messily, thrillingly over her face, along her jaw, as his hips rocked and jerked in that explicit rhythm that met and matched hers.

It was like being a horny teenager all over again, but magnified to the n’th degree. Every part of her was hot. They were rubbing against each other like crazy animals, and Teresa was the one making moaning noises now, unable to contain herself as Zack’s hands went all over the place. Her breasts. Her thighs. The cleft of her bottom. He was surveying her physical geography, and he was impatient. His fingers wriggled between their bodies, tugging at her skirt and searching for access to her sex.

And all the while he was kissing, licking, tasting… and nibbling.

Nibbling? More than that… as his mouth reached her throat, she suddenly yelped and jerked beneath him.

Dear God, that is so hot! He’s biting my neck!

It was pure sex… shocking and primal… Painful but in a way that made her hips lurch against him of their own accord, seeking the touch of his fingertips where they pressed against her panties.

Am I flying? This is weird…

She wriggled and parted her legs, not sure where the pleasure was… only knowing that it was like melting, dissolving, expiring… coming?

And then…

The rail-backed kitchen chair was hard beneath her thighs, and the glass cool in her hand. Her heart was thudding, and there was a silvery hum ringing in her ears. But despite this strange physical phenomenon and an accompanying sense of dislocation, she felt calm, almost serene… apart from a vague prickle of curiosity. She’d been panicking and fretting about something, but it was okay now. Zack had come up with a solution, hadn’t he?

Looking up, she was surprised to see him standing by the sink. His mouth was uncharacteristically tense, his lips tightly pursed and his eyes looked huge and very dark. She felt a jolt of worry. Had her silly invitation distressed him?

‘Are you okay, Zack? You’re not sickening for something are you? You don’t have to come to the wedding, you know… It’s wonderful of you to offer and God knows I appreciate it. But I’m a big girl. I think I’ll be okay.’

There was a long pause. Zack’s eyes seemed to skitter a bit, and he pressed his knuckle against his lips, as if pondering.

What’s the matter with him? He’s not usually like this.

As she watched, Zack gave one long, fluttering, almost slow motion blink, squared his shoulders and lowered his hand to rest it on the forearm he had wrapped around him, reacquiring his stillness.

'I’d like to go to… I need to get out more.’ He gave her a cautious smile, his white teeth glinting. ‘It’ll be a change for me… all this studying and researching. I need to kick over the traces and have some fun.’

Um… yes, I suppose so.’

But later, when he’d returned to his books, his research and his computer, Teresa was left wondering about Zack’s sudden decision. Wondering about that, and a few other things…

Like… why were her lips so tender, as if she’d been kissed to within an inch of her life?

And what the hell was that bright red mark on her neck?

BUDDIES DON'T BITE is part of the Lust Bites anthology along with two other stunning vamp novellas written by awesome Lustbiters Kristina Lloyd and Mathilde Madden. It's published on 8th Nov 07 in the UK and on 1st Jan 08 in the US. If you'd like to win a copy of Lust Bites and a copy of my vintage paranormal erotic romance, GOTHIC BLUE, please leave a comment on this post and you'll go into a prize draw.

And finally here's a treat for Janine in the form of another Count Dracula! ;)

Images of Zachary Trevelyan courtesy of The Velocity of Vincent.

'Vampire Pleasure' image by 'betterthantheworst'