Bloodsong

by Eden Bradley

  About the Author

  The author of a number of novels, novellas and short stories, Eden Bradley writes dark, edgy erotic fiction. Her work has been called “elegant, intelligent and sensual”. One erotic novel was recently profiled in Cosmopolitan.

  Eden appears regularly on Playboy Radio’s Night Calls and conducts workshops on writing sex. When she’s not writing, you can find her wandering museums, shopping for shoes and reading everything she can get her hands on. A California native, Eden currently lives in Los Angeles. You can visit her website: www.edenbradley.com

  Look for these titles by Eden Bradley

  Now Available:

  Tempt Me Twice

  Midnight Playground

  The Seeking Kiss

  Celestial Seductions

  Winter Solstice

  Spring Equinox

  Summer Solstice

  Wasteland

  The Breeder

  Two vampires, one woman, an eternity of love and desire…if only she’s strong enough…

  The Seeking Kiss

  © 2009 Eden Bradley

  Midnight Playground, Book 1

  London, 2069

  For as long as Nissa has known about Midnight Playground, the most exclusive of a world-wide network of vampire sex clubs, she has yearned to gain entrance—and to become one of them. Orphaned and alone from a young age, she has nothing to lose and nothing to stop her from indulging in her darkest fantasies.

  Hex and his maker, Aleron, have enjoyed many play partners at the club and have often shared in the euphoria of the Seeking Kiss, that sensual blood exchange between vampires and their lovers. But Nissa’s beauty, intelligence and strength is a siren call he can’t resist.. His desire for her and her willingness to let herself be drawn by their mental pull compels Hex to consider offering to her something he’s never given another mortal– the treasured Turning Kiss.

  The beautiful vampire pair entice Nissa into an intimate sexual realm beyond her wildest dreams—and she revels in it. But when she finds herself falling for one of the powerful duo, it could mean the end of her deepest fantasies. Or a new beginning she never dared to imagine…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Seeking Kiss:

  Her mind was emptying out. Too much sensation going on to think. Too much of her most treasured fantasies come to life. Was this really happening?

  But the tall one pulled out, stepped away from his partner, reached out and took her hand. His skin was hard and cool on the surface, with a strange sort of warmth lurking beneath. He drew her in, and the dark one came to stand behind her, his arms coming around her body. They began to undress her, and it was as though it was all happening in a dream. Except that it was real and she was wide awake, and she knew it. Fantastic.

  The tall one stroked her exposed flesh—her collarbone, the top of her breast, and her nipples hardened until they hurt. And all the time she was aware of the dark one’s hands on her waist, holding her up, holding her tight to them both. His flesh was a bit softer than the other’s, in a way that was difficult to explain, even to herself. So, so beautiful, both of them, and she thought she’d die if they didn’t kiss her soon.

  “Soon enough,” the blond whispered to her, his voice tinged with a French accent.

  She heard his name in her head, like some distant sort of echo. Aleron. And then the other, the tone gentler, full of smoke, and she’d known his voice would sound just like that. Hex.

  Their hands were everywhere at once then, stroking her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, the small of her back. Their mouths followed, their lips surprisingly warm as Aleron lifted her arm and trailed kisses down that sensitive skin on the inside of her forearm, Hex kissing her back. Small, fleeting kisses, too fleeting. Pleasure like fire skittering over her skin, making her tremble. Her pussy was soaked, throbbing. Needing.

  “We hear you,” Aleron told her quietly.

  Hex took her then, turning her in his arms so that she faced him. The masculine beauty of his face was staggering, his eyes so dark they were nearly as black as his hair, with shots of whiskey and amber lighting them, and unbelievably long lashes. His mouth was ripe, the tips of his eyeteeth resting on that lush flesh. She swallowed, unable to speak, to think. He smiled at her, and his smile was like pleasure itself, working its way deep inside her body.

  “We know you, Nissa,” he said, his voice that low, husky whisper she’d known it would be. “We know you, and we are here to give you what you need. What you desire. You want us, yes?”

  She nodded her head, her throat dry, and it was several moments before she was able to speak. “Yes. Yes…”

  “And we want you. Beautiful Nissa. Beautiful girl.”

  She shivered once more, his words, his voice, almost as lovely as his touch. Then he did touch her, his hands gathering her bare breasts, kneading them gently, then a bit harder. And she leaned into him, sighing with pleasure as he took her nipples between his fingers, pinching, twisting. Oh yes, pleasure and pain and the exquisite knowledge of what they were. Vampires. Immortal. And she had some sense of the eternity of their existence, as though they fed her a bit of it, along with the ghostly sensations of what each of them was feeling.

  She blinked, found them both staring at her face—blazing blue eyes and hot liquid brown. Aleron gave the slightest nod of his chin before slipping back behind her, his hard body pressed against her spine, like sun-warmed stone. Hex smiled before lowering his face to hers and kissing her.

  God, his lips, like nothing she’d ever felt before in her life. Hard and soft, yielding yet unyielding. Then his tongue, as hot and silky as any human’s, yet sweeter, more pure, somehow, pushing its way between her lips, twining with her tongue.

  Love him already…

  And the pleasure pushing its way into her body in long, undulating shivers of desire. She was lost in the kiss, in him.

  Hex.

  Aleron put his hands on her once more, stroking her hips, her thighs, impossible feather-light strokes. She’d never imagined one of them could be so gentle. And her sex was lighting up with need, wet and hurting.

  When Hex pulled away to look into her eyes once more with that riveting gaze, she whispered, “Please touch me.”

  Hex’s hands came down to cover Aleron’s, and together they slipped their palms between her thighs, four sets of fingers brushing the curls there, the swollen lips.

  “Ohhh…”

  She could hardly believe this was happening.

  Don’t think. Just feel.

  “Ah, so wet for us,” Aleron whispered into her hair.

  “Yes…”

  She arched her hips into their touch, but they pulled away.

  “Not yet, not like this,” Aleron said. “I want her on the bed. I want her open to us completely.”

  They guided her, helped her climb onto the high, velvet-covered bed, laid her out on her back. They stood, one on each side of the bed, and she was trembling all over.

  Need you. Please.

  Aleron’s voice was so low she had to strain to hear him. “Yes, Nissa. You shall have us both. And we shall have you. With our hands. With our mouths. With our cocks. And with our teeth. We will drink from you. You will have the Seeking Kiss tonight.”

  She was shaking so hard she could barely hold still. This was what she’d wanted for so long. And it was happening. Her mind was a tangle of need, sharpened by an edge of fear. What would it really be like, to have them drink from her?

  “You are about to find out, beautiful Nissa,” Hex told her. His eyes were glowing amber in the dim light, and she felt some of his power in his gaze. Not as strong as Aleron’s, but it was there, palpable.

  “Yes,” Aleron said, “I am older than he is, by centuries. And the Kiss will be different with each of us. But you will love it. You will drown in it a little. But we will care for you. You have nothing to fear.”

  Their hands were on her then once more, long strokes down the length of her body: her shoulders, her breasts, her
stomach and the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrists, until she thought she might die simply from needing them to really touch her.

  “Please…” she begged.

  A small laugh from Aleron. “Ah, she grows impatient.”

  And before she had a chance to think, his hand was between her thighs, his fingers pushing into her needy pussy.

  “Oh!”

  Pleasure like a knife, that keen, that sharp, stabbing into her body. Her back arched, she came up off the bed, but Hex was there, holding her down, his hands warm and solid on her hip and shoulder, grounding her somehow.

  “Hex… I need you… I need you to kiss me.”

  He smiled, his teeth a stunning flash of white, the long canines glinting. Then he lowered his head, his mouth pressing to hers. And his tongue sliding into her mouth, all soft and hot, was like Aleron’s fingers working inside her, pushing, pushing, into her pussy, into her mouth. She was writhing on the bed, her body on that lovely edge already. Her mind was spinning.

  Hands held her down, pressing onto her belly, her breasts, her thighs, as the first wave hit her. And Hex’s tongue in her mouth, Aleron’s fingers deep in her sex, pumping, thrusting, until she couldn’t take it any longer.

  She cried out as she came, pure ecstasy shimmering through her in glass-sharp waves. Pleasure rose, higher and higher, her body, her mind, filling with nothing but sensation, coursing through her, taking her over. She was yelling, out of control. Lost.

  When she opened her eyes she was in Hex’s arms, half lying in his lap as he sat behind her on the bed. She could feel the flawless surface of his chest and stomach against her back, his bare skin an absolute epiphany against hers. Lovely.

  Aleron still stood, smiling down at her.

  “That was beautiful, Nissa. You are beautiful. But the night just begins.”

  She agreed to everything but sex. She hadn’t counted on his monstrous creativity…

  My Fair Monster

  © 2008 Lila Dubois

  Monsters in Hollywood, Book Two.

  Since the day three incredibly hot men in disguise walk into her office and proved Monsters are real, intrepid screenwriter Jane Darby is obsessed with one task: to give the creatures a mythical makeover by writing a revolutionary, blockbuster screenplay. Now if only she can get over her own fear—and get the closed-mouth Michael to talk about his people.

  Michael is fascinated by the demur and docile Jane, whose efforts to hold him at arm’s length hide an untapped sexual passion—a beast within her waiting to be set free. There’s only one way to get under her lovely skin: strike a bargain.

  For one week, she agrees to let him do anything, anything, he wants. But Jane’s got conditions. First, no actual sex. Second, she has to enjoy it.

  Jane’s not really worried. What can happen if he sticks to the bargain? After all, she’s not really turned on by the idea of Michael tying her down. Or bending her over his knee. Or…

  Gulp.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for My Fair Monster:

  “Oh my God you set me up on a blind date. Was there a roofie in that shot?”

  “No, but that’s a good idea for next time.”

  “Lena!”

  “Oh calm down! I’m joking, besides, who needs GHB when there’s a good DJ?”

  “Quit distracting me. What’d you do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fine, then I’m going to go dance with that guy.”

  Lena hesitated long enough for Jane’s friends-with-stupid-plan detector to shoot into red, before Lena said, “Dance with him if you want. I just think you could do better.”

  Jane pulled her friend’s face close until they were nose-to-nose. “I know where you sleep.”

  With that ominously vague threat, Jane left the bar, heading for the dance floor. She stopped on the edge, intending to search for coat guy, but a new song started up. It was rich, with a pulsing back beat. The dancers stopped their wild solo gyrations and came together, the music demanding skin-to-skin contact.

  The tingling was back in her fingers, the music pressing into her skin, demanding her recognition, her service. Jane stepped onto the dance floor, and started to move.

  Lifting her arms above her head, Jane slide one hand along the fabric casing her limb, wishing it were bare so she could feel the contact. She whirled, planting her feet on the downbeat and throwing her head back.

  Something brushed against her back, breaking the rhythm of her dance, but when Jane opened her eyes there was no one close enough to touch her. Like her, the others on the dance floor were lost in the song, touched by music as well crafted as a symphony.

  Jane halfheartedly glanced around for coat guy, but gave up when the next hard beat sounded. She bumped her hip to the side and slid her hands over her own breasts, down her belly, to the bare skin of her thighs. She bent, waiting, poised, for the beat to give her a signal. When the music spoke to her Jane snapped up.

  Her back slapped into something. Someone.

  Hands covered hers, urging her to retrace the path over her breasts to her belly, then hips. He pulled, forcing her ass back against him.

  Then they moved as one. Rather than a crude thrusting back and forth—a pale imitation of missionary sex—their duel dancing was rhythmic and subtle, hips moving to the beat. Jane freed her hands from beneath his, needing more. Her fingertips brushed a face, and then his hands captured hers, fingers tight around her wrists, pulling her arms up and back, until they were trapped behind his neck. He held both her wrists in one large hand.

  Jane gasped as the position stretched her up, until she danced on her toes. Her breasts lifted, and her partner took full advantage, cupping one breast through her dress. He touched her, fondled her, controlled her.

  Jane shuddered and moaned. She turned to look at him, but her arms acted like blinders. She tired to speak but her mouth was dry.

  “Just dance.”

  She barely heard the words over the music and the rush of blood in her ears. Had she even heard it? Or was the baritone command a figment of her imagination?

  His hand left her breast, which both relieved and disappointed her, until it dropped to her bare thigh and headed north, slipping beneath her short skirt to curl around her hip, fingertips brushing the fabric of her thong.

  His touch made her aware of her own wetness, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him, whoever he was, to touch her, right now. She wanted his finger inside her, long and hard and thick, in one powerful thrust.

  The music stopped.

  Sound had not stopped pumping from the speakers, no DJ was that stupid, but the song had changed. This new offering was frenzied, with a screaming singer, and too much techno overlay.

  Jane snapped from her dance-induced lust-haze. She jerked her arms free of his hold and the man’s hot, rough hand slid away from her thong.

  “I knew you loved to…dance.” The voice was low, rich and…familiar.

  A legend…a myth…a high stakes game that could shatter them both.

  Heart of a Huntress

  © 2010 Crista McHugh

  The Kavanaugh Foundation, Book 1

  As one of the oldest surviving vampire hunters in the Foundation, Lana has learned the toughest lesson: success comes at a price. So while the yummy stranger she bumps into at Caesar’s trips all her temptation switches, duty comes first. Better to be alone than to gamble with someone else’s heart—or her own. Although maybe a one-night stand won’t hurt…

  Byron has set a one-way course for revenge against the Vegas vampire who murdered his uncle. When he collides with Lana, though, her scent calls to him like a potent aphrodisiac. The only explanation: she’s his true-mate. And the timing couldn’t be worse. He can’t afford any distractions—not to mention it’ll be hell convincing her to love someone who sprouts fur and fangs every full moon.

  One drink together turns into a daring night of passion. Their erotic interlude ends abruptly with the news that Lana’s partner has bee
n abducted by the very vampire Byron seeks. Now Byron has no choice. He must reveal what he is and risk a rejection that could spell his own destruction…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Heart of a Huntress:

  His voice almost growled the last sentence, like he wasn’t used to people challenging his orders. A shiver coursed down her spine. Normally she didn’t like domineering men, mainly because she could kick most of their asses when push came to shove. But Byron looked like the type that could match her, tit for tat. An equal. A challenge. She rattled off the address to her condo just off the Strip and nestled into his arms. It would be a short ride, but she might as well enjoy it while she could.

  His arms wrapped around her, warm and comforting. How long had it been since she allowed herself to get physically close to someone like this? She knew getting involved with him was out of the question—too many complications—but would one night disrupt the balance of her life?

  “Let me take a look at your ankle.”

  He slid his hand down her leg and her sex tightened. An amused light shone in his eyes when she met his gaze, like he knew exactly how horny he was making her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was struggling to contain his arousal as much as she was.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s already starting to swell a bit. Can you move it, wiggle your toes? Do we need to take a detour by the hospital to make sure it’s not broken?”

  She followed his commands, wincing as she did. “I think I’ll survive. It’s just a sprain.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “Maybe some bruised ribs,” she admitted. Her mind played back the encounter with the last vampire, and a cold chill washed over her insides. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving my life. And for taking care of me afterwards.” God, she hated to admit she needed help. It gnawed at her gut, but if she had to be rescued by anyone, she would’ve picked him. “But you need to be careful. You saw what they’re like, and from what I overheard, they were setting up a trap.”