Surrender to sinful pleasures and forbidden passions with Masters of Seduction, the sizzling new paranormal romance novella series from New York Times and internationally bestselling authors Lara Adrian, Donna Grant, Laura Wright and Alexandra Ivy.
In the realm of the Incubi Masters, pleasure is to die for and love is the deadliest game of all . . .
Available for purchase at
MERCILESS: House of Gravor
by Lara Adrian
Blurb:
Seeking vengeance for the murder of his brother, Incubus Master Devlin Gravori demands justice from the high court of the Nephilim. But fury and retribution are no match for the consuming desire he feels for Nahiri, the beautiful Nephilim warrior he claims as his hostage.
Excerpt
Nahiri awoke in the middle of a large bed in a strange room.
She shot upright the instant consciousness dawned, her hands reaching automatically for her weapons.
They were gone.
The leather sheaths that crossed her torso were empty.
No. That meant her nightmare hadn’t been just a dream. It was reality.
The Incubus in the temple…Devlin Gravori.
He really had taken her.
Nahiri’s eyelids snapped open in panic. Sunlight poured in from an open window across the room, blasting her vision.
Momentarily blinded, she squinted through her lashes, struggling to take quick stock of her new surroundings.
Creamy stucco walls. Dark hardwood floors and masculine-looking furnishings. Thick timber beams high above her head.
And beneath her, a massive bed. The mattress was as cushiony as a cloud, the cotton sheets and silken coverlet calling to mind all manner of sins.
All around her was the scent of intriguingly exotic spices and something even more enticing.
Him.
She sensed his presence even before she swung her head in his direction and found him seated in an upholstered chair beside the bed. No, not seated in it, exactly. Dominating it. The same way he seemed to dominate every space he occupied.
His big body lounged negligently where he sat, his powerful thighs spread, one arm draped over the side of the chair, the other propping his head up, fist curled loosely under the square line of his jaw.
He’d shed his suit jacket at some point, and now wore just his gray tailored pants and white business shirt. The collar was opened even farther than she recalled, just one more button loosened, but exposing enough of his tawny skin to make her mouth water with a sudden, unholy urge to taste him.
She wanted to dismiss the impulse as one he planted in her mind, but she could tell from the casual way he regarded her that any curiosity she felt in that moment was hers alone.
Nahiri scrambled off the bed. She backed into the farthest corner of the room, eyeing him warily. “Where am I? Where have you taken me?”
“You’re at Gravori House.” He cast a nonchalant look around the room. “More specifically, you’re in my bedroom.”
Even though she could have guessed as much, her heart still climbed into her throat. Since she’d gone to the temple to train at eighteen years old, she hadn’t left the sanctuary grounds even once. Let alone spent so much as a minute in a man’s bedroom.
She might be a virgin, but she had never been a wilting little girl. She was a grown woman. A skilled warrior. She refused to let him intimidate her.
“It was a bad idea to abduct me from the temple,” she informed him. “The Three will see you punished for this, Incubus, regardless of what you mean to do to me. And with or without my weapons, I am still a Blade. I will fight you every step of the way.”
“The same way you did in the High Chamber?”
Her cheeks flamed with heat at the reminder. With humiliation. Her weakness had shamed her in front of the other Blades, in front of the three priestesses who’d entrusted her with their lives. With their faith that she was the best, the strongest, of her peers.
And this demon had disproved all of that in a moment.
He would do it again if he wanted to. He could do anything he wanted to her. Nahiri could see it in the hard glint of his golden eyes.
No, for all her skill—for all her dedication to the teachings and training of the temple—Devlin Gravori could destroy her at his whim.
“I’m not interested in fighting you,” he murmured, as if he could read the troubled direction of her thoughts.
She swallowed, watching the way he stared at her from across the room. He didn’t move, and yet her body trembled as though his hands were already on her, as hot and roaming as his gaze. All the wicked, deviant things she’d ever heard about Incubi appetites poured over her in a rush of dread and terrible anticipation.
“In case you’re worried about it, I’m not interested in raping you either,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth curling around the sensual growl of his deep, rumbling voice. “Forcing a woman isn’t the Incubus way. Never been my way, at any rate.”
Nahiri hiked up her chin. “No, you’ll just bend my will until I submit. Or make me your Thrall so you can siphon my life’s energy for your own. Maybe you’ll manipulate my mind until I beg you to drain me completely. I suppose that would be more your way.”
He grunted, dark amusement in his tone. “I have plenty of women more than happy to slake my needs—all of my needs.”
As reassurances went, his did little to relieve her. He steepled his hands beneath his chin, his citrine gaze locked on her. Nahiri could hardly breathe. His dark energy was gathered about him, pulsating and vivid, but not the way she’d felt it in the temple.
He was holding his demonic allure in check now, despite the heat she felt licking along her limbs and putting a flame to her blood. He intrigued her as much as he unsettled her.
Heaven save her, but he tempted her.
Even as he terrified her, infuriated her…he stirred a dangerous longing in her.
And he knew.
The way he studied her, he knew she was struggling against an attraction she wanted desperately to deny.
One raven brow quirked nearly imperceptibly. “If I wanted to take you as my lover, Nahiri, or feed from you as my Thrall, I wouldn’t need force or Incubus magic to do it.”
The combination of her name on his lips and the terrible truth he spoke made her heart stumble in her chest. It beat shallowly, accelerating in time with her breathing.
And she tried not to notice how his gaze tracked every inch of her body, settling on her breasts as they rose and fell with each rapid squeeze of her lungs.
He got out of the chair and stood in place for a long moment. When he finally moved, his steps were measured, unrushed. So confident, as if doubt was something he never had to trifle with when it came
to women.
Of course, he’d told her as much, so his arrogance shouldn’t surprise her now.
Nahiri stood, frozen, as he approached, his thick-muscled thighs carrying him in a slow prowl across the room. He paused an arm’s length away from her.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, grateful that the tremors of her body hadn’t found their way into her voice. She could not forget for an instant that she was dealing with a demon. “What do you want from me?”
His sensual mouth twisted in contemplation. “I haven’t decided yet. But let me be clear about one thing, little Blade. You may be pledged to the Three and their precious temple, but in this House, I am Master. So long as I have you under this roof, you will obey me. As of now, your well-being, your life—everything—belongs to me.”
She bristled, outrage shooting through her like fire. She welcomed the anger. It helped eclipse the desire that was still simmering inside her, unwanted and never to be admitted—especially to this overbearing heathen of a man.
Devlin Gravori was mad if he expected her to think of him as anything but her captor.
Her enemy.
And he might as well realize that now.
Nahiri peeled her lips back from her teeth in a furious smile. She squared off against him, ready to do battle even without the benefit of her weapons. “I would rather die before I give anything to you. Willingly or by force. I would see you dead before that day.”
He scowled as she hissed the words into his face. When he raised his hand, she thought for certain he would strike her.
Instead, his broad, warm palm came around the back of her neck. He held her in a firm grip, and brought his face terrifyingly close to hers.
When he spoke his voice was raw, as rough as gravel in his throat. “Be careful with your threats, Nahiri. Those are dangerous words. Particularly when my kin are already grieving the loss of one brother to your kind today.”
She stared up into his fierce golden eyes, transfixed by the power she saw there. By the pain and fury that hardened his handsome features and tightened the lush line of his mouth.
“On the other side of this bedroom door, I have a dozen Incubi brothers and cousins who might be tempted to take your threats against me to heart. They might be tempted toward other things too. But not so long as you’re under my watch. No one takes what belongs to me.”
As he spoke, his gaze drifted to her mouth. It lingered there, and suddenly Nahiri could hardly swallow for the lack of moisture in her throat. Her lips tingled under his gaze, aching for contact. Her temples pounded with her heartbeat, a rising, steady thrum that seemed to echo in the small space between her body and his.
Everything female in her was fixed on this man—this dark, deadly demon—and the unholy need he aroused in her.
“You will obey me,” he muttered, the command like velvet on her senses when it should grate like sharp stones. “As of right now, Nahiri the Blade, you belong to me.”
To learn more about Lara's books and to sign up for her email newsletter, visit www.LaraAdrian.com.
You can find Lara at
SOULLESS: House of Romerac
By Donna Grant
Blurb:
Incubus Master Canaan Romerac is focused solely on revenge against those who betrayed him and put him in the Oubliette for five hundred years. That is until he sets eyes on Rayna. Can the beautiful Nephilim heal Canaan’s wounded soul before it’s too late?
Excerpt
It took less than a day for Canaan to realize he had to get accustomed to the world much more than he had comprehended. It had taken a lot for him to walk away from the beautiful Rayna, but walk away he had.
He might be a sex demon, but no was no. The next block over he found just the woman he needed to feed off of and restore some of his strength.
As usual, people were eager to share useless information, but he did manage to glean facts he did need. Like the name of the town - Traders Hollow – and that New York City was five hours away by car.
Canaan had expected the human race to make advancements, but he hadn’t expected such bold leaps as the computer, cell phones, and weaponry. Then again, the humans were rather gifted in killing themselves.
As the day faded to night, Canaan knew he couldn't leave Traders Hollow just yet, even though he was more than ready to begin his trail of revenge.
If the human world had changed so much, what of the Incubi and Nephilim? He needed to know every detail before he set out for the city. There would be no mistakes, no oversights. No missteps.
Few would see him coming.
Fewer still would know what ended their lives.
But in the end, he would right the wrong done to him.
Donna Grant is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty novels and novellas spanning multiple genres of romance.
She was born and raised in Texas but loves to travel. Her adventures have taken her throughout the United States as well as to Jamaica, Mexico, and Scotland. Growing up on the Texas/Louisiana border, Donna’s Cajun side of the family taught her the “spicy” side of life while her Texas roots gave her two-steppin’ and bareback riding.
Her childhood dream was to become a professional ballet dancer and study under the amazing Mikhail Baryshnikov. Though she never got to meet Baryshnikov, she did make it to New York City and performed in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Later, Donna’s love of the romance genre and the constant stories running through her head prompted her to sit down and write her first book. Once that book was completed, there was no turning back.
Donna sold her first book in November 2005 while displaced from Hurricane Rita, a storm that destroyed portions of the Texas Gulf Coast. Since then, Donna has sold novels and novellas to both electronic and print publishers. Her books include several complete series such as Druids Glen, The Shields, Royal Chronicles, Sisters of Magic, Dark Sword, Dark Warriors, and her new series, Dark Kings.
Despite the deadlines and her voracious reading, Donna still manages to keep up with her two young children, four cats, three fish, and one long haired Chihuahua. She’s blessed with a proud, supportive husband who loves to read and travel as much as she does.
You can find Donna at
SHAMELESS: House of Vipera
Blurb:
Scarus Vipera, Master of the House of Vipera, was growing weaker by the day.
He needed sex.
Power-rich sex.
But not just any female would do. If he was to gain back his strength, he needed one of the Immortal Nephilim of the Harem.
He exited his private plane and moved down the steps toward the waiting limousine. The heat of the desert clime invaded his custom gray suit and attacked the skin, muscles and bones beneath. He despised the weakness spreading unchecked inside of him. Despised that it forced him to revisit the place that had, only five years ago, caused him both stunning pleasure and the deepest pain.
Walking out those ancient doors framed in the finest gold, he’d sworn never to return. He would find his pleasure, his power, his repast, elsewhere. He would forget. About the Nephilim who’d birthed his son—his only child—then run away. He’d forget how he’d bonded with the boy.
Watched as his mother nursed him. Oh, he’d been a strong little male. Scarus should’ve seen how the Nephilim was doting on him, how she’d held him all through the night as though she hated to be parted from him. It wasn’t something he’d ever seen before. Normally, if the child was male the Nephilim would be only too happy to be rid of it. But not Daya. She’d taken the boy and run, both of them meeting with an accident just two days later.
The pain that had swarmed Scarus like a thousand angry wasps was both surprising and debilitating. He hadn’t been able to forget, and had lost any good nature that he’d been blessed with. Barking orders at his servants, not attending any celebrations or holidays with his family, refusing to meet with the Masters of the other Houses. He could not care for what was happening outside his palazzo in Ravello. Whether it was how the Sovereign was closing in on the end of his reign and had not been seen in far too long. Or how Devil Gravori believed that the Three were destroying all human/Incubus pregnancies to ensure that the Succubi remained extinct. He only cared about staying alive and strong for his House, and for all of those within it who relied on him.
As he approached the sleek black car, whose doors carried the Vipera House sigil of a coiled serpent, the desert wind whipped around him. To regain his strength he needed the power of the Harem.
About the Author
Unlike many of my peers in the writing world, I wasn't a writer or a reader until I left high school. During my youth I was into theater, song and dance, commercials and boys. I loved romance surely, but I had never read a romance novel until my late teens. With that said, I remember the day I did like it was a moment ago - my aunt gave me the Jude Deveraux novel, Knight in Shining Armor and I couldn't put it down until the very last word. Then I went straight to the library and got another – then another until I’d read everything she’d ever written. After that, it was McNaught, Howard, Schone, Kleypas, and the Silhouette line, Desire. I instantly loved those emotional, sexy reads, so much so that I began to carve out ideas for my own stories, themes that were unique to me and moved me. In 1997 I enrolled in UCLA extension writing classes, met my mentor and critique partners and since have never stopped writing. I was committed then and I still am now; the need to tell my own romantic stories a full on obsession. My first manuscript was rejected, and though the second one was as well the editor who’d rejected it wanted to see something else from me. I had something (note to authors; always keep working, even after you've sent in a proposal) and sent it right away. The day I got the call telling me Desire wanted to buy Cinderella and the Playboy was the best day of my life. That is until I married my husband, and had my two beautiful children. But I must say, writing is much like motherhood – tough, grueling, surprising, delicious and for me, a dream come true.
Unlike many of my peers in the writing world, I wasn't a writer or a reader until I left high school. During my youth I was into theater, song and dance, commercials and boys. I loved romance surely, but I had never read a romance novel until my late teens. With that said, I remember the day I did like it was a moment ago - my aunt gave me the Jude Deveraux novel, Knight in Shining Armor and I couldn't put it down until the very last word. Then I went straight to the library and got another – then another until I’d read everything she’d ever written. After that, it was McNaught, Howard, Schone, Kleypas, and the Silhouette line, Desire. I instantly loved those emotional, sexy reads, so much so that I began to carve out ideas for my own stories, themes that were unique to me and moved me. In 1997 I enrolled in UCLA extension writing classes, met my mentor and critique partners and since have never stopped writing. I was committed then and I still am now; the need to tell my own romantic stories a full on obsession. My first manuscript was rejected, and though the second one was as well the editor who’d rejected it wanted to see something else from me. I had something (note to authors; always keep working, even after you've sent in a proposal) and sent it right away. The day I got the call telling me Desire wanted to buy Cinderella and the Playboy was the best day of my life. That is until I married my husband, and had my two beautiful children. But I must say, writing is much like motherhood – tough, grueling, surprising, delicious and for me, a dream come true.
If you’re interested…
I was born and raised in Minnesota. It’s where my love of all things green, wet and grown in the ground comes from. As you read above, before writing I was an actor, singer and dancer, specifically a BALLROOM dancer - an instructor and competitor as well. That work took me to many places like New York, Ohio and Wisconsin. I live in Los Angeles now, but I’m always thinking about greener pastures – literally.
You can find Laura at
RUTHLESS: House of Xanthe
By Alexandra Ivy
Blurb:
Jian, Master of the House Xanthe, has devoted his life to returning his family to their former prominence. When he’s offered a contract to hunt down the missing Sovereign, he’s eager to accept. The last thing he expects is to encounter a stunningly beautiful angel who stirs more than his lust.
Excerpt
“I’ll give you full credit for your arrogance,” she mocked, spreading her wings as the mirage of snakes continued to crawl over her body. She needed to keep him distracted until he’d stepped into her trap. “Your intelligence, however, is obviously deficient.”
His low chuckle wrapped around her like a silken caress, making her nipples bead with a sharp-edged longing.
Damn. It’d been so long since she’d been touched in anything but anger.
Too long.
“Trust me, I’m not lacking in anything.”
Muriel felt the soft stroke of fingers down the slope of her shoulder.
Incubi magic, of course.
It had to be. She would know if the demon were that close to her.
Still, that didn’t halt the searing lick of anticipation that spread through her body.
“Then why are you hiding from me?” she rasped.
“I’ve told you,” the aggravating male murmured. “I want answers.”
“Answers to what?”
“Why have you created a gateway into the fortress?”
Her mouth went dry as she continued to back toward the distant wall.
That was a question she had no intention of answering.
Instead she feigned confusion. “What fortress?”
Without warning a pulse of heat sizzled through the air as the Incubus abruptly stepped from the shadows.
“You want to play games, sweetheart?”
Muriel hissed, reeling beneath the impact of his beauty.
He was quite simply…magnificent.
Not the ethereal loveliness of male angels. Or the rough aggression of humans.
He was pure male temptation. A walking, talking invitation to sex.
Against her will, Muriel found her gaze lingering on the glossy darkness of his hair and the lean, finely sculpted features, before lowering to the slender, muscled body that made her fingers twitch with the
urge to explore every hard inch.
Her heart raced as her gaze returned to his face, instantly ensnared by his golden eyes.
Oh heavens, those eyes…
They shimmered with the promise of pleasure beyond her wildest dreams.
I’m not exactly sure when I fell in love with books. Probably on my mother’s knee listening to her read Dr. Seuss to me. I do remember that I was barely old enough to cross the street by myself when I discovered the delights of the local library.
Could anything be more wonderful than spending summer days surrounded by stacks of Nancy Drew mysteries? Over the years I fell in love with Victoria Holt, Jane Austen, Agatha Christie, and J.R.R. Tolkien just to name a few. I read poetry, essays, biographies, and plays. In fact, I read anything I could get my hands on.
Years later (no, I’m not admitting how many) I’m still an avid reader, and my tastes are still as varied as they were in my youth, which I suppose helps to explain why I enjoy writing regency historicals under the name of Deborah Raleigh, as well as my contemporary paranormals as Alexandra Ivy.
For now that is enough to keep me busy, but who knows what the future might hold!
I do have a few other loves in my life besides reading and writing, the most important being my unbelievably patient husband, David, and my two sons, Chance and Alexander. Without their constant support and belief in me, I never could have been able to follow my dreams. They are truly my heroes.
You can find Alexandra at
Presented By
No comments:
Post a Comment