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?

Moonset

By Mathilde Madden

So, so long ago I started telling you about my Silver Werewolves Trilogy. And now, it all comes to an end. This week, the third and final book The Silver Cage was published in America. I've been though 6 publications dates with these books. (And that's not including my novellas and short stories set in the same universe.)

So I apologise if this seems like one last extract and book cover too many, but bear with me.

In the last part of the trilogy Alfie and Iris are driven apart when Alfie is taken prisoner (along with wayward wolf cub Leon).

They are held in a dungeon by the uber-powerful Divine Wolf and her wicked witch partner Sabrina. At first the two of them are imprisoned together in a Silver Cage - with only one thing to do to pass the time. But the Divine soon puts a stop to that. Leon is taken from the cage and Alfie is handcuffed and left inside.

All Leon can do is watch as Alfie's frustration grows...

Leon was looking at Alfie. He did that a lot. He didn't know how long he'd been locked down here or what was going to happen to him. But looking at his sire helped. It made him feel safe.

Alfie was lying naked on his side. His cuffed wrists pulled up and twisted a little behind his back where the chain was twined around the bars of his cage.

In a rare lucid moment Alfie had wondered aloud why this set up. Why he was still in the cage and Leon outside it in the cellar room. Leon knew why. Firstly and most simply the cage was magical, worked like the collar, held Alfie's form. The reason they weren't both in the cage anymore was obvious - Alfie would thrall Leon into making him orgasm. Leon could see how tormented Alfie was by the constant frustration and teasing. The Divine clearly wanted to drive Alfie mad by not letting him climax. There was no way she'd let him and Leon go back to their earlier ways of comfort through rutting. But it was safe to keep Leon outside the cage while Alfie was locked up, because no matter how many times Alfie told him to run, there was no way Leon was going anywhere.

He didn't hear the door opening, but when a musical lilt of a voice said, 'Well ain't love grand!' Leon knew he would have recognised her anywhere.

'Sabrina,' he said, rolling over.

She was standing in the doorway. She looked just the same as she had the last time he had seen her. Bare delicate feet, long brown legs, a stretchy tight white dress that seemed to make her look more naked. She smiled. Leon's broken heart went heavy and tight in his chest.

The magic Sabrina had used once to temporarily break his thrall to Alfie and make him loyal to her was still there – somewhere inside him - pushing its way to the fore again now he was in a room with her. Looking at her seemed to activate it.

'How are you, Leon?' Sabrina said. She threw a single wary glance at Alfie. Leon didn't get up, he let her approach him and drop into a crouch. She covered his body with hers and kissed him.

All Leon could think about was how Sabrina was so beautiful.

She ran her fingers through his long blond hair, melting away the tangles that had matted their way into it while he had been locked up. Every morning, while The Divine bathed and tormented Alfie, she gave Leon a bowl of water to wash with, but it was barely adequate. However, Sabrina, as she touched him, seemed to cleanse him. The grime and sweat of weeks of captivity seemed to melt away.

Leon let his gaze wander to Alfie, who was watching them from the cage.

Sabrina's hands had come to rest on the fastening of his jeans. She reached down and turned his chin, making him face her again. 'There's something different about you, Leon,' she whispered. 'You used to be blind to anyone but me when we were together. Let me remind you.'

Sabrina bent back over his crotch and popped open his fly, his erection sprung out, but Leon didn't know whether he was hard from Sabrina's petting or in that way he often got from idly gazing at Alfie, naked and frustrated in the cage.

Sabrina leaned closer still and took Leon's cock into her mouth. Down and down into her throat.

'Oh god,' Leon moaned, almost shocked at the raw ridiculous pleasure of it.

Sabrina laughed and those vibrations flowed into his cock and seemed to spiral out through his whole body. The pleasure was intense. Too much. Every hair on his body stood on end. His nipples were pinched taut. Sabrina let her mouth work his cock a few more times then pulled free. She worked it with a tight fist. Then she whispered. 'Stand up, werewolf. See me.'

Leon obeyed her. He got shakily to his feet, his body still buzzing, overcome with almost debilitating arousal.

'Touch it,' Sabrina whispered. 'Touch yourself.'

Leon took his cock in his hand and brought himself to the rising edge of his orgasm, fast and sudden. He stroked again. Nothing. The sensation suddenly gone.

He looked at Sabrina. She smiled.

'Witch,' said Leon, frantically working his cock and suddenly feeling nothing. 'What did you do.'

'Very little, actually. You've been wondering, haven't you? How it feels for him. For your sire. Your heart is breaking for his suffering.'

'No,' said Leon sharply.

'He has your pleasure, Leon?'

'What?' Leon turned his head and looked at Alfie. His eyes were closed or almost closer. He looked peaceful and pleasured.

'Touch it,' Sabrina whispered.

Leon stroked his cock. He felt nothing, but in the cage Alfie moaned and bucked, thrusting his groin into the empty air.

'Just as you wished. I know you've been taunting him, making him watch you. And I also know, that deep down, your only wish was that you could give that pleasure to him.'


'No.' Leon shook his head. 'That's rubbish.'

Sabrina smiled. 'This spell doesn't work like that Leon. I made a magic to give you the sexual experience you most desired. And, it would seem, what you most desire is for your sire to have your pleasure.'

'No, no.' Leon shook his head hard.

'So you don't want him to feel you come?' Sabrina said, getting to her feet.

'I… I…' Leon was shaking his head.

Sabrina moved closer. Leon was backed up against the stone wall. Sabrina's long cool fingers closed around his cock. 'Well?' she whispered. 'The Divine won't know. It won't affect her potion. He won't actually come. Just feel it when you do.' Her fist was tight, moving on Leon's cock.

Leon bucked and gasped, squirming, his back against the wall – but he felt no pleasure from what she was doing. He looked at Alfie. He knew that look on his sire's face – the pleasure was clearly all his.

'If you wanted to enjoy it yourself, you would,' Sabrina whispered, and her voice was harsh and bitter.

Leon moaned and felt himself ejaculate. He looked at Alfie, writhing as Leon came.

After a second Sabrina brought her semen smeared fingers up to Leon's lips and shoved them into his mouth. As he cleaned her up she muttered, 'So, werewolf, who's your daddy?'

Poor Alfie and Leon. Of course Iris is out there somewhere, trying desperately to find her truest love (trying to find Leon? - not really so desperate), but she is having to deal with problems of her own too.

Hop over to my blog for more on that. (And the book winning.)

And my blog is where I'll be from now on as I'm taking a break from Lust Bites. I've had a wonderful time here and I'll miss it like crazy but I know I'm leaving it in the most capable of hands. And of course I'll be popping up in the comments from time to time.

Best wishes

Mat x

More Silver Werewolves on Lust Bites
Silver Werewolves on Amazon.com
Silver Werewolves on Amazon.co.uk
My blog
My website

What? One last gratuitous pic before I go? Oh go on, you've twisted my arm. (Or at least that's why I think it's so sore.)

Bye Bye!
MxM

(P.S. Growl if you love werewolves!)

Possession: The Silver Chains

By Mathilde Madden
I really didn’t have time to write a novella for Possession. I had these three other books to write at the time. But the chance to tell even more stories about my werewolf pack was too good to pass up.

And there was one bit of backstory I didn’t quite know where to put in the trilogy.

All the Silver Werewolf novels take place in the UK, but in the first book the hero Alfie has some magical silver chains that he uses so he can have sex without transforming into a wolf and killing his partner. I wanted to explain exactly how he had acquired them.


Hera leaned up over him and pulled down the chains. One cuff already attached to each of the bed posts. She smiled at Alfie as she lifted his right wrist and began to fix it down. 'It's very easy to adjust the spell on them. Just a little elementary magical skill really.' And in the time it took her to say that, she had both Alfie's wrists secure. Utterly secure.

'So they'll change with me? They won’t come off?' Alfie said. He was so overwhelmed. Need. Desire. Pure and brutal. He was still thrumming with it.

'Not a chance, my beautiful wolf. I will be quite safe no matter how hard you fight. And I even have a spelled muzzle that will twist when you do too. Those fangs won’t be coming out tonight. No matter how much I make you scream for me.'

In response to the realisation that he was going to get to have sex, Alfie had groaned so loud and so long that it was only muffled when Hera suddenly stuffed a thick pad of leather into his mouth and started tightening attached straps all around his head.

The leather felt strangely soft and satisfying in his mouth. He bit at it and it tasted hot and salty and flesh like. Hera, on top of him, leaned down, kiss-close.

'The only problem is you don’t get to kiss me,' she said, her mouth floating above his sealed and stoppered lips.

Alfie moaned as she flicked out her tongue and nudged at the edges of the muzzle. Somehow the frustration of it was more erotic that a real kiss. He moaned and strained.

'One thing about this situation,' said Hera, drawing her head back from the tease, 'is that when you come it's all over. You come. You change. No more fun for me, you see. We need to make you wait a long, long time. I need to be sure that I'll fully satisfied before you are.' She reached back and drew her hand along the length of Alfie's aching, waiting cock. 'We need to make this poor thing wait.'

Alfie moaned yet again and Hera dipped her head and ran her tongue over the leather that sealed Alfie's mouth. Over and over.

Alfie rolled and bucked his hips, but somehow he knew she was going to make him wait a long, long time.

Her fingernails grazed his chest, raised angry red lines, little tiny beads of his blood. She pinched her own nipples to hardness with finger tips slicked with his own desperate wetness, his helpless needy precome.

She licked his nose and pulled his hair and then, from somewhere, produced a beautiful blue-glass dildo. She glanced down at Alfie's straining erection. 'This looks pretty close to your size,' she said as she held it on the base of his belly, jutting right above his real cock.

He gasped and thrust his pelvis making his real cock twitch next to the replacement.

'In some ways,' Hera said, 'the glass is better. Cooler in this heat.'

And she slid herself up and mounted the blue dildo, holding it firm against his abdomen with one hand. Alfie felt her moving on it. His erection was tight up against the groove of her arse. As she moved it teased him, but it wasn't enough to make him come. He was already desperate. He could feel the wolf close but not quite able to break through. He rolled and fought his bonds.

Hera came. Quick and sudden she screamed and pushed her free hand into his hair, falling forwards and ending up thrashing against him with her tits covering his face. He screamed into the gag, wanting nothing more than to be able to flick his tongue over her nipples.

And then she lifted her head, smiled, kissed his hot cheek, dropped the dildo on the floor and slid herself back onto his cock.

An hour of teasing, a year without feeling a woman around his cock, Alfie thought like he would die of pleasure. His cock was in fire. Every nerve screamed with heat and need.

This was going to be no great performance of stamina, just a quick bucking fuck. His hips moved, slammed up into her. Over and over and over and down, into the wolf.

Mat x

And don't forget to comment for another chance to win a copy of Possession

The Silver Cage

By Mathilde Madden

I’m here again because, practically speaking, I have three books out this week. There’s Possession of course, but also on Tuesday Silver Werewolves 2: The Silver Crown came out in the US and today Silver Werewolves 3: The Silver Cage comes out in the UK. The last book - that means, here at least, it is now possible to go out and buy the entire 3 book series in one great wodge!

So I’m celebrating, even though this schedule is crazy. Although nowhere near as crazy as my schedule when I was writing the damn things.

Reading order
Silver Werewolves 1: The Silver Collar
Silver Werewolves 2: The Silver Crown
Silver Werewolves 3: The Silver Cage

And I’m back tomorrow to tell you about my contribution to Possession. Does it involve werewolves? Wait and see…

Mat x

Get Possessed: Falling Dancer

by Anne Tourney

Today we leap into Possession Week, celebrating the February 7 release of this new Black Lace anthology with delicious, demonic excerpts from novellas by Mathilde Madden, Madelynne Ellis, and yours truly. I was honored to be invited to contribute to this anthology of supernatural passion and transformation along with these diabolically gifted Black Lace authors. Both of these Lusties can often be found trafficking in intrigue and danger on the Dark Side, but for me, this voyage into the more subterranean areas of the psyche was a bit of a detour. After three light, contemporary erotic romances for Cheek, I was ready for something gritty, urban, more than a little crazy, where I could use the C word with all the abandon of my Black Lace/Alaine Hood days.

Falling Dancer is an urban fantasy, set in a city very much like the one where I live (minus the annual Stock Show) where the contemporary realities of addiction and mental illness take on a supernatural dimension. Kelda is an exorcist who moonlights as a bartender. With her history of alcoholism and drug abuse, she's no stranger to street life, or to the disgruntled fallen angels who take over the bodies of the lost, the addicted, and the desperate. The Fallen Ones are spirits who've been lingering in the material world for centuries. They long to enter the realm of the flesh, but first they have to identify a vulnerable human victim, and then they have to seize the body.

Kelda's calling is to set these possessed mortals free, and to return the tormented angels back to the world of the spirit. It's a harrowing job, and it leaves her very little energy to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, herself. But when she meets Brendan, the brooding musician boyfriend of a ballet dancer who's mysteriously survived a suicidal jump from her high-rise apartment building, Kelda's interest in mortal entertainment is reignited. At the same time, she's powerfully attracted to Sander, the ER doctor whose clear, rational mind provides a haven for her psyche, just as his lean, strong body offers a respite for her flesh.

Amara is the Fallen One who takes possession of Lia's beautiful body as she's diving from the eleventh storey of her building. An angel who's been condemned for eons to the task of reuniting lost lovers, Amara bears a grudge as vast as the underworld and an appetite for the flesh to match. Kelda knows she's going to have a hell of a time performing the Release that will free the ballerina Lia from Amara's paranormal clutches. With the help of Brendan and Sander, and lots of erotic energy of her own, Kelda is going to attempt the exorcism of a lifetime. And have lots of juicy sex along the way, of course.

In this scene, the Fallen One Amara discovers the glories of having a human body on her first night as a mortal:


The new Amara tosses her hair, making the strands whip her cheeks and chest like a mass of silken snakes. The ballerina's innocence is already vanishing from her face-once pure, the blue eyes are darkening to violet. Soon they'll be nearly black, twin purple pits in the snowy heart of a stolen face. Everything the ballerina denied herself, Amara will grab with the greed of a thousand lost years. A soul that's been hovering for so long can never be fully fed. She touches her breasts, lifts their satin weight, touches the tips, which are small and pale as pearls. Under her fingers, the nipples darken and harden into dusky new buds. The flat silk surrounding them rises into scalloped rings.

Using her nails, her palms, her forearms, Amara paints sensations across her skin -- shivers, shudders, a deep electric throb. Desire used to haunt her like a shadow; now the ghost is coming to life again in stolen flesh.

Nestled between the tight outer wings of her cunt is a tiny knot. Touching it sends a tremor through Amara's body. She circles the kernel, rubs it, strokes it into stiffness. Faster. Faster. Her inner flesh unfolds. Wetness seeps down her thighs. She pants like a running jackal. With her other hand, she enters the hole at her cunt's heart, two fingers thrusting up and down in a simulated fuck. Her eyes widen in the mirror: two empty wells fill with wonder. This is what she's wanted forever; this is what the mortals give up their souls for. Something infinitesimally small, yet infinitely huge -- the ripple that crests in a wave of joy.

A harsh, guttural moan comes from Amara's mouth, peaking in a raw, trilling squeal as she rides her first climax. Her hips thrust forward, her spine arches. Her fingers curve into claws, arching over the back of the chair. She wants to rake her smooth belly until it bleeds -- pain, so harsh and pure, could only make this glory sweeter -- but even in the midst of her high, she knows better than to damage herself. Instead, she braces herself against the flimsy motel chair to keep from falling to the floor.

When the orgasm finally dies, Amara looks at her reflection again as she catches her breath. Her pupils, fully dilated, are black voids. The remains of a snarl twist her angelic mouth. She smiles at herself. The smile is triumphant. She owns the ballerina's body now; the possession is complete.

How can she ever get enough of this?

She will never, ever let this fleshform go.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Kelda rediscovers some fleshly delights, herself, when she hooks up with Sander, the ER doctor she's been lusting after for months. Sander has the hots for Kelda, too, but tonight he's just beginning to realize that she's not what she appears to be.




I'm pinned against the counter now, Sander's weight holding me firm against the tile. The muscles in his arms twitch as they brace my ribs, nerves sending me messages of their own. The stink of alcohol is gone, and I know now that it was a phantom stench, that in these past hallucinatory hours, he never drank a drop.

The Fallen Ones can do that -- intoxicate us with their wild, ephemeral substances, powerful as psychosis. In our struggle to figure out what's hijacked our brains, our senses step in with signals we can understand. The Fallen Ones wear our addictions like veils.

'It wasn't booze, Sander.'

'What are you talking about? I was plastered.'

I start to explain how the circuitry of a mortal brain can run haywire under the touch of a Fallen One, but he swallows my words with his mouth. Those lips, lips I always thought were a bit too thin, too hard in their refusal to express the inexplicable, are softer than I could have guessed when he kisses me. Molten tongue, gently insistent. Those healing hands clasping the back of my head, guiding my face in the rhythm of the kiss.

Something's in the room with us. Called up by my aborted ritual, and by the energy that Sander and I are making, it hovers in my kitchen. I smell the acrid, blood-bitter stench of its envy. I glance over Sander's shoulder as he turns my body and eases me against the counter, parting my robe with his hands. He hoists me up on the tile and pushes my thighs apart.

I watch the Fallen One rise and spill her poison across the ceiling; she, it's definitely a she, all female in her sick hunger. As I unbuckle Sander's belt, I'm sizing up her power. As I unzip his fly, I'm watching her summon everything she has. She's a tough one. Been floating for centuries, chewing a massive grudge. She almost got Sander, but he's mine tonight.

Fuck off. I'll deal with you later.

I mouth the words at the ceiling while Sander's face is hidden in the hollow between my neck and shoulder. The Fallen One curls into itself, like a stingray recoiling for attack. She spews putrid smoke, filling the room with the stench of the charnel house, but it's going to take more than a foul odor to stop what's going on between me and Sander.

I've got his cock in both hands now, clasping it between my palms. The shaft springs up, nudging the heel of my hand, seeking something darker and deeper. Sander starts breathing in sharp, rough gusts when I open my thighs for him. I grab his taut ass and pull him into me. His groan is gut-deep, rusty, and I'm so wet that he slides in without a hitch. We've both been deprived, and that bitch on the ceiling isn't getting any of what's mine.

'I can't believe this is finally happening,' Sander whispers.

'Me neither.'

I yank his shirt open and drag my nails down the hairless slope of his chest, watching him flinch as I scratch his nipples. His skin is humid, hot. His musky scent makes my cunt clench. Wearing his medical education like a superhero's shield, Sander thinks he's protected from my world. I'm about to take him to a place where those shields melt like cheap plastic toys.

He grabs my hips, tilting my pelvis so that he can ream me with deep, rhythmic thrusts. Each stroke hits me at my soft center, unthawing a part of me that had been frozen for months. The changes in his face -- slackening of the skeptical mouth, darkening of the tawny eyes -- arouse me more than anything else. Still fucking me, he bends to cover my breasts with greedy kisses. His teeth grind the darkened tips till I shriek, then he comes back up to devour my mouth. His thumb furrows through the same wet place that his cock is filling, finds my swollen clit, and applies a gentle pressure while his shaft turns me inside-out.

I moan. He grins when he feels me soften. He thinks he's got me. I'm not willing to be gotten so easily. So I show him. I unlatch the door that's been closed for so long, and let him see what's behind Door Number One. Here's your prize, Sander. A riot of ghosts and fallen angels, hovering in a milky netherland, waiting for their lucky break. Souls torn apart by what they want.

Why do the things we want the most destroy us? Ask any one of these entities; they've been fighting with that question for eons.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

I hope you'll read more . . . and enjoy this road trip to the Dark Side with me.

Possession will be released on February 7, 2008 in the UK and on April 1, 2008 in the US. Order your copy today!


One more announcement: the Hand of Fate (or rather, the hand of my demonic six-toed Siamese cat) has chosen rlr260 as the winner of a copy of my erotic romance Lying in Mid-Air. Please send the lustbitesladies (you already know where to find us!) your snail-mail address to claim your prize, if you're not too scared of my kitty, that is.






Photo credits: Dark ballerina from Exploredance.com; funky tattooed demon from Cuttingedge.org; sexy urban stencil from Globalgraphica.com; Vin Diesel (as Riddick) straight from heaven to your eyes, baby.

---

From Mathilde Madden

We're giving away copies of Possession all week. Just leave a comment here.

And drop by on Weds and Fri to hear about the other stories and the book and grab a second and third chance to win

MM x