Please welcome my guest blogger, October Weeks with A TASTE SO BITTERSWEET
a Fiona Wesley novella (The
Damned in the POV of a turned slayer)
Blurb:
Eight years ago, twenty-nine year old slayer
Fiona Wesley was turned into a vampire. She survived her transformation but
carries the nightmares and scars from the attack. Continuing to hunt the worst
of her kind keeps her grounded, as does her new family. She does her best to
stay away from slayers, but the past has a way of sucker-punching a person.
Now, not only is she facing the beasts that
turned her, but also the one slayer that’s given her nightmares. A slayer that
was once her best friend. All of that just as she’s taking her first steps into
the arms of the man she loves.
Excerpt:
“Fiona.”
Her
name was spoken softly, in an old Danish tongue, and brought her through a
sleepy fog. She couldn’t remember… What was she doing? Looking down, she saw
that she was in a towel, sitting on the floor against the cool porcelain tub.
The water was turned off. I must’ve fallen asleep before I even got in the
bathtub.
“Sorry,”
she whispered as fingers slid through her hair.
This
happened when she went too long between feedings, though this time it was not
of her doing. The depleting of reserves happened more quickly in her because of
her active slayer blood. She would wake to find she had fallen asleep, her
memory cloudy as to how she gotten to where she was and often, though not this
time, her vision would be slightly blurred. But she hadn’t felt an urgency to
feed when she turned the bath water on.
“Do not
worry,” Mads said softly as he drew her to her feet so she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable
with him. He rested his back against the wall as she fought to keep her head
up. She was waking more and more, and realizing her surroundings.
“Feed
from me, Fiona. You need the blood, min skat.”
Her
body became aware of his closeness as he spoke, just as sunlight started to
come into the room. She had not fed from Mads in almost two years, and she knew
he had guessed the reason for that. It no doubt angered him to know she truly
thought she didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, that kind of pleasure, after
what she had done. And yet, knowing all of that, he never stopped calling her min
skat; my treasure.
“You
need to feed.”
The
dawn began to golden the bathroom and she felt the weight of tiredness hit her
again, anchoring her into it.
“Everything
happened too fast,” she said, barely audible. He laid his hand on the back of
her neck. “You know that. Sasha must have told you about the strigoi.”
“He
did,” he said. “I know you do not wish to feed from me, Fiona, but my blood is
stronger than all but one other in this house. It will strengthen you while you
sleep.” His gentle tone made her meet his eyes. “You do not have to take much,
just enough to replenish you. When you wake you will need to feed again until
your reserves are full.”
She
sighed heavily and leaned her forehead on his chest when the rising sun bathed
the room fully, sweeping over her. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of
him, the luring sound of his blood in her ears. Masters such as he, as old as
he, had blood that beckoned and tasted so good it was likened to the taste of
chocolate for human women. So very tempting, and he was quite right—his blood
would renew her system while she slept, and she could finish filling her
reserves when she woke. The decision was easier to make with that on her mind.
Common
sense was a slayer’s best asset, along with trust in one’s instincts. It’s what
kept most of them alive. And a slayer she still very much was.
Mads
sank a hand into her still up-do hair and massaged her scalp gently, and she
let him feel her heavy need. He felt it when she made her decision and
unbuttoned the last two buttons of his shirt, opening it wide enough for her to
take from his chest.
“Take
from me,” he whispered in her mind, coaxing her gently. “Take what
you want, what you need, of my blood, min skat.”
She
moved her head slowly back and forth, caressing his bare skin with her teeth.
Her canines grew to an inch in length.
“Take
from me.” His voice caressed.
Fiona
sank her fangs into his chest, just deep enough for a steady flow of blood. She
retracted them so her mouth could cling freely to the smooth flesh just above
the light covering of chest hair. He tasted far more enticing than she
remembered: sweet, with a hint of honey and a touch of sea salt … and
deliciously warm.
His
hand in her hair tightened as he held her head to his chest, his other hand
lightly touching her left hip. She knew he was fighting not to touch her like
he wanted to, that he felt this moment was meant to be relished for what she
could give, not for what he could very easily take.
“I
forgot how good you taste,” she whispered in his mind.
He
growled low, and his hand tightened slightly on both her head and her hip.
“You
have enough, Fiona,” he whispered, regretfully. “You may
stop.”
Fiona took in one last swallow
of his blood before stopping, letting out a moan that spoke volumes, even as
soft as it was.
Buy Links:
Author Bio:
October
Weeks is a paranormal/dark fantasy/horror writer and a reader with too many
books and not enough shelves!
She lives
in Vermont. Autumn is her favorite
season- October and November are her favorite months. Loves: reading,
writing, movies (horror, sci-fi, and fantasy especially), taking walks,
fishing, and family. Obsessions: Lindt dark chocolate and the SyFy
Channel.
She also
writes paranormal and erotic romance under the name Libby Bishop.
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Thanks so much for stopping by, October. :)
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