The Book Mistress Tours
Satin and Steel
Blood & Fire, Book 2
Blood & Fire, Book 2
By
Brantwijn Serrah
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance (NC17)
Book
blurb
They say love
ruined her. It's time to prove them wrong.
Half a century ago,
Rhiannon lost the woman she loved. Since then, unlife has held little
meaning for her, and she's fallen from grace among the vampire
nation. She once swore to throw herself into the sun the day Aijyn
died...but it turns out she's no good at keeping promises.
Sometimes the best
cure for heartache is surrender. There's a demon in London with new
promises: darkness to run in, pleasures to hunt, rules to break. Sent
to track down a dangerous traitor, Rhiannon is caught up in a game of
murder and treachery between three warring races...and the sinful,
seductive shadow-walker who could be her redemption, or her ultimate
undoing.
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Link
Author
bio
When
she isn't visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and
goblins, Brantwijn fills her time with artistic endeavors: sketching,
painting, customizing My Little Ponies and sewing plushies for
friends. She can't handle coffee unless there's enough cream and
sugar to make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she
will never forgive you. She moonlights as a futon for four lazy cats,
loves tabletop role-play games, and can spend hours watching
Futurama,
American
Horror Story or
Buffy
the Vampire Slayer
while she writes or draws.
In
addition to her novels,
Brantwijn
has self-published erotic short stories available on Smashwords or
Amazon. She's also had a short story published in the Cleiss Press
Big
Book of Orgasm and
the anthology Coming
Together Through The Storm.
She hopes to have several more tales to tell as time goes on. She
has author pages on GoodReads and Amazon, and loves
to
see reader comments on her work. Her short stories occasionally pop
up at Foreplay
and Fangs,
her blog at http://brantwijn.blogspot.com.
Social links
Brantwijn's Facebook Page:
http://tinyurl.com/qf2bzwk
Foreplay
and Fangs blog:
http://brantwijn.blogspot.com/?zx=6ba3380c7201b326
Find Brantwijn on Google+
And on Goodreads
Say hi to her on Twitter
Book
excerpt
In a blink, the
demon disappeared into the silhouette of the smoke stack. Then,
Rhiannon felt slender fingers brushing along her shoulder, slow and
coy. She spun to find Vivienne lounging happily on her stomach atop
another chimney, slipped there through the shadows without a sound.
“What we have
heard about you,” she said, “is far from rumor.”
Rhiannon jerked
away. “Don’t touch me.”
The corner of
Vivienne’s smile twitched, for a moment becoming hard, an irritated
scowl.
“Your kind is only
the Fourth Blood of the Drogh Lord’s kingdom,” she hissed. “The
werewolves and shadiil came long before vampires. We are older than
even the oldest of your race, gravespawn, something you and
your mother would do well to keep in mind.”
Rhiannon bristled at
the insult. “Older than vampires, but still the spawn of beasts,”
she spat. “Rife with a touch of madness because of it, I’d say.”
Vivienne fell
silent, searching Rhiannon carefully. “They say you have
been mad once.”
Rhiannon’s spine
straightened. A wary prickle traveled through her shoulders and a low
growl started deep in her throat.
“Drank the blood
of another vampire, didn’t you?” the shadiil purred. “Drained a
rival warrior to death, just as a rabid thrall does, and lost your
pretty little mind.”
Rhiannon’s hand
returned to the hilt of her blade.
“You haven’t
exactly been the same since then, have you, Rhiannon Donovan?”
“It’s a lie,”
she muttered. “I am not a thrall. I know my own mind and I am not
rabid!”
Vivienne’s smirk
returned, as if renewed by the anger she’d provoked. She slid her
knees out from under her and dropped to the rooftop, backing Rhiannon
down.
“You were expected
to become the first Archon in the history of the Blood Circle Council
to bear four fangs,” she said. “A vampire colder and crueler than
any ever squirted out from between her dam’s thighs. Colder and
crueler than most who were sired with a bite, perhaps. What happened
to you, Rhiannon Donovan? Where did your strict, disciplined focus
and cold-blooded dedication go? Where is the tigre méchant et
sanguinaire, the malicious and bloodthirsty tiger?”
“Back away,
shadiil,” the vampire spat. “I am still a Weapons master.”
Vivienne stopped,
tilting her head, scanning Rhiannon up and down with giddy cruelty.
“They were wrong
about you,” she said. “You are no Archon.”
“It no longer
matters to me if I am.”
Green eyes
glittered. “My race knows better, little Rhiannon. My queen
knows better. You will throw off every expectation the
bloodsuckers have of you. You will throw off every expectation
everyone has of you. You are no Archon at heart.”
She stood close
enough that her pretty, elfin nose almost touched Rhiannon’s. The
vampire realized she’d stopped growling, caught off guard by those
glowing, hypnotic eyes.
“Non,
non, Rhiannon. At heart, you are nothing less than a
Councilwoman herself.”
Rhiannon snorted.
“You are the one
who is mad, shadiil,” she muttered, turning to slip down the way
she had come. “Run off. Let me hunt in peace.”
“I am not teasing
you, ma chérie,” Vivienne said with a smile. “This is
what the seers have told us: you will become the greatest vampire
among all vampires.”
“Your seers are
blind.”
With a cold rush of
shadows, the other demon appeared out of the darkness before her,
materialized in the silhouette of the window casement.
“Enough of grand
talk then, since it bothers you so,” she murmured. “Reconsider
hunting with me. We will find this beast and put it in the ground.
You can go back to your race a hero and get back on the path you
pursued so hungrily before you lost your mind.”
“I didn’t lose
my mind!” Rhiannon insisted, pushing past her.
“The shadiil
prides of London and our werewolf allies will be far more helpful to
you than your own kind. We are not so busy prattling about the blame
and covering up our blunders. You will find us to be far more
pleasant company.”
“I don’t want
company.”
“Arrêtez, ma
cher...wait.”
Rhiannon paused,
another growl escaping her.
Vivienne strolled up
to her side. “May I see your teeth, ma beau chérie?”
Rhiannon sneered.
“What?”
Vivienne lunged,
putting her soft hands to Rhiannon’s face and nudging her lips away
from her teeth. As the curious beast inspected the bracketed fangs in
eyeteeth and canines, her smile quirked up at the corners even more.
She started to purr, her tongue peeking out to run over her dark
lips.
“Oh...they
are most lovely, bastard child,” she murmured, stroking one hand
along Rhiannon’s cheek. “So lovely, I could almost bite you
myself, and send you home to your mother with my naughty teeth marks
all over your tight little body.”
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