The Marechal Chronicles: Volumes I, II, and III (An Erotic Fantasy Tale)

by Aimelie Aames

  "Three hundred and eight years, to be precise," he replied....

  ~~~

  Outside the slaughterhouse, a small crowd had gathered. Onlookers peered through the broken in windows and facade, intent to see what had been the source of the explosions that had shaken the entire quarter.

  Among them, there was a poorly dressed man. One might have imagined him as someone fallen on hard times. Someone whose skin hung upon him, a very corpulent man who had lost a great deal of weight and done so too quickly.

  He peered over the shoulders of the bystanders, then stepped back, his eyes shifting from side to side in their sockets, the skin loose and sagging.

  With a lurching, clumsy gait, he shuffled away as the crowd leaned in to see the bloodied man and woman limping out of the darkness, leaning heavily on one another as they came.

  ###

  The End

  Now available--the next installment in the Marechal Chronicles!

  The Marechal Chronicles: Volume IV, The Chase

  The saga continues in this 30,000 word volume of the Marechal Chronicles.

  Melisse and the Marechal de Barristide have survived a demonic battle only to find themselves at odds with one another.

  A noble yet lonesome man, the Marechal would have her stay at his side while he searches for the evil behind hideous murders throughout the realm. Yet Melisse believes her destiny lies over the mountains, far from her past.

  But that same past finds its way back to her and Melisse learns of yet another murder at House Perene. Only she is too late as she discovers the identity of her own father and that the blood running in Helene Perene’s veins is no more noble than her own.

  Meanwhile, Silas has learned to play the game of intrigue and deception at the Estril court while he remains captive and consort to a high General’s wife. Jealousy threatens his very existence but nothing will stop him as he strives for his own freedom.

  Behind them all lies the broken tower of the Alchemist. It is a curse to anyone who falls under its shadow. In bitter chagrin, Melisse discovers she is no exception as she makes the attempt to unravel its terrifying mysteries.

  Available Now at Amazon

  If you enjoyed this book, then you might be interested in a related story:

  The Goblin Between Her Thighs

  (A Prequel to the Marechal Chronicles)

  An army captain with a mysterious scar is torn from the battle front and from his lover in this story of espionage, body thieves and devious eroticism.

  The legendary Goblin War rages while Alexandre's own identity slips away from him in his struggle between his forgotten past and the woman who loves him. Action, intrigue, and intense sexuality...all this and more awaits between these pages.

  This is an erotic stand-alone story but also a prequel to the events recounted in the ongoing series, The Marechal Chronicles by Aimélie Aames

  .

  To subscribe for all the latest updates and breaking news on the next installment in The Marechal Chronicles, or for information on where to find the adventures of Anna Ixstassou, The Reluctant Witch, go to aimelieaames.wordpress.com

  Other Books Available by Aimélie Aames

  Divine Fornication--The Complete Collection (An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves)

  Episode 1--Seduced by the Angel

  Claire Sawyer's life is about to change in a way that she never could have imagined.

  Blind since a terrible childhood accident, she dies for the second time in her relatively short life only to find herself in the arms of an angeli being.

  Is he her guardian angel, or the monster responsible for the deaths of her parents so many years ago?

  Claire will search for her answers as she is swept up into events involving the divine and their relation to the vampires and werewolves that she encounters in her incredible journey to discover the truth.

  Episode 2--Taken by the Vampire

  Claire awakens in a hospital room to find a man sitting quietly, waiting for her.

  Except that he is no ordinary man, adorned as he is with dark wings and burning in black flames.

  Is it the angel of death, come to take her away at last? Or is he the lord of all vampires, come to steal the prize from his adversary, the Messenger, the being who has healed Claire's blindness?

  Flying high above the city lights in his cold arms, Claire shall find herself brought to a lonely fortress where blood drinkers await her and werewolves roam the darkness, all of them waiting for the ravishment to come..

  Episode 3--Claimed by the Wolf

  From certain death at the hands of vampires, Claire Sawyer finds herself surrounded by hundreds of wolves.

  Are they her saviors, or the culmination of the doom that follows her at every turn?

  Cursed or no, Claire must fight for her survival, even if that means becoming one of them, wolves in heat with just one thing in mind.

  Episode 4--Redeemed by the Conqueror

  In the stunning conclusion to the four part series, Divine Fornication, Claire Sawyer finds herself caught between vampires, werewolves and angels. Three races of beings willing to battle for the one thing they value most--Claire's eternal soul.

  Will Claire's guardian angel return at last, in her final moments? Or, will she be lost forever to eternal damnation?

  An excerpt from Divine Fornication--The Complete Collection:

  ....Claire seized the opportunity and slowly crawled away. If she could manage to put some distance between her and the fighting wolves, she might stand a chance.

  As she eased her way forward, practically crawling upon her belly through the high grasses, Claire saw the edge of the clearing not far away. She gathered her legs under her, readying herself to jump up and run for the cover of the trees when someone stepped directly into her path.

  "Going somewhere, are we?" said a young man's voice and Claire looked up to see him grinning down at her.

  He was a wolf, but younger than Clash and Braze, she surmised. He had not yet filled out his frame, appearing gangly and awkward due to his height and long muscles that had not yet taken on the heavy mass of the adult wolf shifters.

  Claire froze, not daring to move a muscle. The young wolf was in near full human form as he lifted two fingers to his mouth. A shrill whistle sounded, to be quickly followed by two wolves loping to his sides.

  They lifted up, their limbs stretching and smoothing into human form. One was dark skinned and scowling, the other blond and fair with a smile that stemmed from true humor and not the irony of the situation before them.

  The darker of the two newcomers spoke first, and said, "Rend, you have to take her back. When the leaders finish...and you know they will soon...they'll come looking for her."

  The other, the one for whom it seemed all a joke, chuckled and said, "Shard's right. Besides, she's not that special. In the city, we can get all kinds of human chicks. It's really no big deal."

  The first wolf, the one the other two had named Rend, replied, "Yeah, but out here in the wild, human bitches don't happen every day. I might never get another chance."

  Claire could feel her blood boiling as the young wolves spoke. as the young wolves spoke. She did not want to be simply an object to their adolescent desires, but she could not deny that the three young men standing above her were making her thighs part of their own volition.

  "Now wait," she said, "You...you're from the city?"

  The comic blond wolf nodded and said, "Yeah. My name's Flair. I came with Braze and the rest of our pack to help get you from the vampires."

  "Ok," she said, "Just give me a second to think."

  Claire desperately searched for a means of bargaining her way back to the city with the help of the young, blond wolf. Afterward, she was sure it would be far easier to escape from him than from the huge man called Braze.

  "No," said Rend, "I've heard about you humans and how much you love to talk. I'm not interested.

  "Shard, grab her arms."

&n
bsp; The dark wolf never stopped scowling but he trapped Claire's wrists in his hands. He might not have been a fully grown wolf, but his strength was far greater than her own. She pulled desperately away from him, but his hold upon her did not ease.

  "Flair, take a leg, already."

  The blond simply shrugged as he latched on to one of Claire's ankles.

  Rend eased himself then between Claire's thighs and she could feel him trembling as he knelt down to the ground, his own legs brushing against her.

  Claire said, "You've never done this."

  The wolf did not reply….

  Available Now at Amazon

  Also by Aimélie Aames

  A Billionaire story unlike any other--

  She watches him every day.

  For two months she has spent each lunch hour studying the enigmatic man in a restaurant always filled to overflowing; yet, for two months he is there each day in a booth all to himself.

  Sara thinks she is safe as she drinks in every gorgeous detail reflected in the bar’s back mirror. She asks herself who he could possibly be, convinced that he would never notice her...convinced that no one ever does.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Chance brings them together and animal lust is unleashed. But what she never could have imagined is far from being the strangest part of this tale. For there are shadowy figures holding the strings offstage and the manipulation of Sara Renardine has only just begun.

  An excerpt from Her Billionaire, Her Wolf--His Every Desire (A Paranormal BDSM Erotic Romance):

  There was a sound and then the elevator doors slid open revealing the silhouette of a man, his gaze downturned as he flipped stapled pages in his hands.

  Without looking up, he stepped into the dimmed room and Sara marched directly into his path.

  What was I thinking?

  All thoughts of gratitude were gone. That he had come to her rescue in the restaurant, that he would make arrangements for her job...a new, exquisite silk shirt....

  None of it mattered any more as she stood in his way, burning with red rage.

  "Who in the hell do you think you are?" she said, wishing she could have shouted the words loudly enough to shatter the windows.

  Then, instead of raising her voice, her hand arced up in the shadows. It was slow, yet not, passing through the air as quick as an adder's strike, yet time had stilled in the near darkness and it was as though the air was as thick as syrup.

  Rather than slapping him hard across the face, Sara felt her wrist entrapped in an iron fist.

  And absurdly, she wondered what was written on the pages that drifted down to alight upon her feet while the shock of his viselike grip still vibrated down her arm.

  The beautiful lanterns of his eyes locked on to her own as he said, "Do you not know? Do you really not know?"

  His voice was calm, but his tone was glacial.

  Careful...you're on thin ice.

  "I have no idea who you are," she said, then bit back the rest of what she wanted to say as his eyes softened.

  "Then look at me," he said, his voice as calm as ever, "Right now, look at me and tell me who you think I am. The truth. All of it."

  Sara took a breath, then said, "You tell people what to do. You are so used to doing it, that you don't notice anymore."

  He stepped closer to her and the hand holding her wrist did not let go.

  "You're arrogant. You think you're entitled."

  Another half step closer as he pulled her hand to his chest, forcing her palm against him. Forcing her to feel him.

  There are cracks under your feet.

  "You think you own people."

  His other hand went to her shoulder and Sara could feel the strong beat of his heart under her palm.

  "And, you are brave. You step in when you see someone in trouble."

  Then he touched the side of her neck and Sara's breath came more deeply.

  "You are a knight. You saved me...."

  Pinned in the amber lights of his eyes, Sara knew that it was already too late, the uncertain footing she walked upon had turned to water as she felt herself drowning in his beautiful gaze.

  He bent down to her, his lips soft against her own, searching for truths other than her words.

  She pulled back from him, just enough to speak, her own lips brushing his as she said, "But, that doesn't give you the right."

  His mouth captured hers once more. Warm and velvety. She felt the light rough of a day old beard rasp gently against her skin as she kissed him back.

  "You don't own me," she said, breaking away only to sigh as his hands slid down her sides, then back up again as he cupped both breasts. Strong thumbs drifted across the nipples studding her blouse, swelling even more under his touch.

  "I told you I would give you cause for regret. Now, I shall give you reason for pleasure.”

  His voice was delicious in her ears, like warm honey as he continued, “And I can promise you that it will not be the last time, not for one nor the other.”

  Hands that could have crushed the bones of her wrist to powder only seconds before roamed freely upon her body. Strong fingers undid delicate pearl buttons.

  "Turn around...now."

  Available now at Amazon

  Anna, Collected and Corrected (A Paranormal BDSM Story Collection)

  An excerpt from Anna, Collected and Corrected (A Paranormal BDSM Story), a collection of the series, Anna Ixstassou, A Reluctant Witch in the Land of BDSM:

  He pulls the cord that runs from my wrists up through a pulley above my head. My arms rise higher and I feel the low ache in my shoulders flame up in protest. I'm on the tips of my toes now, my calves are starting to burn and I can't help it if every time he makes an adjustment I only get wetter.

  I should've known better, being who I am. Or, maybe, that's the reason why I didn't see this coming. Too close, too blind to remark what should have been obvious from the start.

  The pulley creaks with my weight and a quiet whimper escapes through my lips. I bite down any other sound that might try to get by my guard. The master is exigent and will only make me pay if I don't follow his rules to the letter.

  He doesn't notice, though, as he ties off the thin rope at a little T post thing. It reminds me of something I once saw on a sailboat, only smaller, and that seems just about right for this guy. A sailboat type...no, a yacht type of guy. He has it written all over him, with his broad chest and heavy arms. I've never seen anyone with shoulders so square. It's as if he was press formed in a mold destined to turn out lovely men. Which is what he is. Lovely, gorgeous, take your pick of whatever man candy euphemism strikes your fancy. He's all that and then some.

  He bends down now and slides his hand down across my bare belly. It's flat and tight. I bust my ass at the gym and skip the pasta. The price to pay for abs that make men want to touch me, to lick me up and down like a lollipop.

  He keeps going down with his hand and slips it in between my thighs, pausing just for a moment at my aching, wet epicenter. He knows I'm turned on, but refuses me and my needs, sliding his hand down my legs instead. At my ankles are a pair of leather straps that he buckles around each, cinching them in tight before finally descending to the tiny platform where I'm standing. I didn't notice before but it's actually two platforms that he unlatches and pushes apart. They follow the track of the half circle rail mounted to the wall behind me. The effect is that suddenly my legs are spread wide open and there's nothing I can do about it.

  Do I care that much? It's hard to say. On one hand, what I went through yesterday with him at the controls was awful. He made me feel like absolute shit. On the other hand, I came back today, didn't I? Yeah, I did.

  I think it's because he's just that beautiful. And, I use that word, beautiful, for a reason, because it isn't often that it applies well to men. Men are handsome, or rugged, or built. But this guy...he has it all. He owns the company I work for, he's built like the wet dream of a Greek goddess, and, right now, at th
is very moment, I'm what he's thinking about. I'm at the center of his every intention and filling his lovely green eyes with lust. And all of that's just fine except for one thing.

  He's the devil.

  There he is before me, perfect in so many ways...but the devil, just the same. You don't think you're ever going to meet the devil, right? That it takes a dark circle of naked worshippers off on some hill in the woods. It has to be at night, the moon up high and full, and the wind whispering of foul portents. There should be some blood letting first, then everyone whips themselves into a frenzied orgy that is meant to call up the dark one.

  Only the devil takes so many forms. I know this. I am my mother's daughter, after all. But the only thing I had to do was to ask for a meeting with the boss. Mistake? You tell me once I get done with this story....

  ***

  We took the elevator down and I had trouble not fidgeting or tugging at the mask I was wearing. Ewan was dressed in a full split tail tuxedo, with elaborate cummerbund and a golden pocket watch that he said dated to the twenties. It didn't matter to me as he was as resplendent as ever, his gorgeous hands housed within impeccably white gloves. He even wore a silk top hat which set his attire off perfectly.