by Arial Burnz
Broderick continued to pump, sliding his shaft deliciously in and out of her. His animal-like grunts and groans sent flutters through her stomach. “Yes! Gods, I love to hear you!”
He hugged her to his chest and brought her down to the mattress, where he pushed her knees to her shoulders. Monika clung to the headboard as he rolled his hips into her, pushing her over the edge for another blissful explosion in her core. This time, Broderick rode with her and they climaxed together, shuddering and bucking until they were both spent and he collapsed on top of her.
Limbs entwined and heaving for breath, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms. Monika smiled and cradled his head to her bosom. “How long will it take to get to Scotland?”
He kissed her breasts. “At least a fortnight to include stops for restocking.” He fluttered his tongue over her nipple. “Why, Blossom?”
She grinned and hugged him tighter. “Whatever shall we do?”
Monika reveled in that thunderous laugh of his, which filled the cabin and her soul. His lips caressed her breasts and belly, tender kisses and teasing licks of his tongue.
“I meant what I said before.” She brushed his auburn hair from his face as he continued to love her with his mouth.
“Meant what, Blossom?” He nuzzled bellybutton, then fluttered his tongue.
She moaned. “I want to find a way for you to stay awake and unharmed during the day.”
He nibbled her hip. “Do you really think it’s possible?” Though his eyes were hooded with passion, there was a glimmer of hope.
“I don’t know, but if I can find a cure for the werewolf curse, perhaps I can protect you from the sun.” She curled her fingers under his chin. “I will certainly make it my life’s work to do so if it would make you happy.”
“You make me happy.” He maneuvered himself between her legs and kissed her inner thigh. “As long as I have you, Blossom, I’m happy.”
She smiled and sighed, letting her head fall back when his tongue trailed to the sensitive spot where her buttock met her thigh. “Bite me there,” she whispered.
Broderick hitched his breath and groaned. She dropped her gaze to his and those silver eyes glowed between her legs. “Just a simple request from your lips and The Hunger is at your bidding. You truly are a witch.” He smirked, bringing out that adorable dimple.
Broderick slid his hands under her knees, pushing her thighs to her chest and giving him better access to her arse. Monika gasped as his fangs sank into her flesh, swooning under the influence of his feeding. She moaned as he fluttered his finger over her clitoris and Broderick coaxed a climax from her again…and again…and again.
* * * * *
“Are you certain?” Rasheed tossed his book aside and rose from his chair on the balcony overlooking the lower level of their parlor. In two strides, he was gripping the wrought iron rail and assessing his companion below.
Ammon nodded up at him from the center of the large Turkish rug. “Absolutely. I saw Broderick MacDougal and his new wife actually cure her father.”
“You realize this will win us favor with the King.” Mikhail put his wine glass on the marble table before him and sat at the edge of his chair, eyes aglow.
Ammon chuckled. “That isn’t all.” He strolled to the gilded cart and poured himself a glass of the blood-laced vintage from a crystal decanter. “Angus has created a cloak that makes him immune to the incantation.” He swirled the ruby liquid before drinking.
“What?” Rasheed stalked to the staircase and descended with rapid steps.
“Yes, our prophecy brothers have been busy.” Ammon joined Mikhail at the twin chair by the hearth, sitting back and enjoying his refreshment and the attention. “From what information I could gather, Angus has been feeding from members of the Army of Light—he has some method to taint their blood so it won’t harm a Vamsyrian—and then harvesting their blood to stain the cloak. I can only imagine that since their blood is blessed, it is immune to the incantation and one just needs to be encased within. I don’t know for certain, but I would guess the leather is lambskin.”
Rasheed crossed his arms and frowned. “I suppose you weren’t able to obtain this cloak from him, were you?”
Ammon pursed his lips. “As you ordered me, rather emphatically, I was not to engage with him or Broderick because we did not want them to know we’ve been following them. Besides, I’m not sure it works anymore. It was burned during their dramatic battle.”
“This cure for the werewolf curse and the cloak will soften the blow of this prophecy business.” Rasheed paced the length of the rug. “I’m not sure it will be enough to save our necks, though.”
“Ammon, you are too full of yourself at the moment,” Mikhail said. He grabbed his glass and sat back, mimicking his companion’s lazy twirl of his wrist as he played with his wine. “You have saved the best news for last. I know that expression.”
Ammon’s grin spread wide. “The Elementals are not extinct after all.”
Mikhail choked on his beverage, staining the front of his laced cravat.
“You’re a liar!” Rasheed scowled and crossed his arms. “There has been no sign of them in over fifty years.”
“You can thank the blasted church for that,” Ammon snapped. “They all went into hiding because of these ridiculous witch trials and religious wars. However, with the Peace of Prague and the new accession of peace between the Protestants and Catholics of the Imperial Free Cities, the bloody trials are finally dying out, making it safe enough for them to resurface.”
“How do you know this?” Rasheed still doubted Ammon knew what he was talking about. He wanted more than just hearsay.
“MacDougal’s new wife is a Fire Witch. Her grandmother Wilhelmina, an Air Witch. I believe her father is an Earth Mage, but I couldn’t confirm it since the werewolf curse seemed to be blocking his powers and I wasn’t around long enough to watch him.”
“You saw them wield their magick?” Mikhail’s face near shimmered with excitement.
Rasheed rolled his eyes.
“Wilhelmina stirred the air to feed the fires of the pyre so Monika’s bonds would burn, thereby setting her free. Monika was not only unharmed by the flames, but commanded them around her.” Ammon sat back and grinned, taking another long sip from his glass.
“We would have to work very hard to reestablish those alliances.” Rasheed paced. “That will mean a lot of money to court the leaders of their Groves and—”
Mikhail swatted Ammon’s knee with the back of his hand. “Come now! There’s still more. I can see it in your eyes!”
He grinned and sipped his wine, dragging out the moment. “Broderick was not harmed from the flames either.”
Rasheed and Mikhail stared with blank expressions.
“Shall I spell it out for you?” Ammon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and cradling his glass. “He fed from her…thereby—”
“Gaining her abilities?” Mikhail leapt from his chair, dropping his wine glass and didn’t flinch as it shattered across the stone floor.
Rasheed sat down on the shallow marble table, his mouth hanging open.
Ammon smiled. “Yes, Rasheed. I am certain. We won’t need to make alliances with the Groves. We make them our blood slaves. We breed them like cattle and not only use them for sustenance, but gain the abilities of their powers as well.”
Rasheed threw his head back and laughed. “This will please the King!”
Ammon rose and strutted to the cart to refill his glass. “Might I make a suggestion?”
Rasheed grinned. “For this information, you may have anything you like.”
Ammon glanced over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his lips. “I like the sound of that.” He slid the crystal bottle top into the decanter and stalked toward Rasheed, circling him like a predator.
Rasheed shivered and cocked an eyebrow.
“Why bring any of this before the King? What if we decided to harvest their powers?”
The blood d
rained from Rasheed’s face.
Mikhail clutched his friend’s shoulder. “He would have us skinned alive for centuries!”
“Not if we had all these weapons at our disposal,” Rasheed whispered.
“Both of you are mad!” Mikhail’s gawking face swerved between Ammon and Rasheed.
Ammon winked at Mikhail. “Imagine, the King couldn’t touch us if we wielded the elements and had an army of werewolves at our command.”
Rasheed lifted Ammon’s wine glass from his fingers and downed its contents. Setting the glass on the marble table, he smirked and glanced down at the erection straining against Ammon’s breeches. “You do love power, don’t you?” Rasheed rubbed his palm over the bulge and Ammon shuddered.
“Oh, no,” Mikhail scolded. He tugged at his blood-and-wine-stained cravat and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I am the one who needs convincing. You two have a long night of kissing my arse…among other things…before I’ll bend to your will on this one.”
The End
Introducing
A New Series by Arial Burnz
Les Petites Morts
(pronounced lay peh-TEETS mohr)
The Title of the Series
La petite mort, meaning “the little death”, is a French idiom or euphemism for “orgasm”. The new series consists of individual, stand-alone erotic short stories and each of them has the following in common:
• 10,000 words or less
• HOT erotic tales
• Paranormal
• Twist ending
Les Petites Morts is a double entendre of “the little death”: orgasm (erotic), little (short story), death (horror). The term pluralized, then, means multiple orgasms/multiple short erotic stories.
Summaries of the Les Petites Morts Series
One To Die For (M/F)
Fame, fortune and females are the life for Russell Schmidt! However, reaching rock-star status through his self-published vampire novels isn’t enough. Trailing after a mysterious woman in red leads to heights of ecstasy he’s never known. But Russ soon finds the tables turned, and his next one-night stand may be to one die for!
Hot Rod Haunting (F/F/M—ménage)
On a girl’s night out, Kami Jacobs and Mona Rand begin to explore their secret attraction for each other, when an opportunity to lure a specter from the grave is too tempting to ignore. What starts out as a paranormal prank turns into a scorching encounter with Kenny Denman, a hot-rod hunk, and the girls would rather play with him than ghosts.
Hungry Like the Wolf (M/F)
Rocky Mountains, 1823—Silas Chase finds a Native American woman, Tala, in one of his traps. Not only is he unprepared for nursing her back to health, but the lonely mountain trapper is unable to resist her savage charms and the hunter becomes the prey.
’Til Death Do Us Part (M/F—Married Couple)
As if overnight, Rachel Sexton’s husband Jeremy cannot keep his hands off her and she has the fiery relationship she’s craved. But something’s missing from her memories and she’s plagued with horrendous nightmares. As Rachel pieces together last week’s events, the truth is graver than anything she could imagine.
I Love You in Pieces (M/F)
Kim Thanos and Steve Morse wake up in a barn. But the night is fuzzy for them and several of the other party-goers who attended the same rave party the night before. Kim and Steve head home to discover they have a voracious appetite…and not just for food. Sex is wild, hard and both are insatiable. But they’re not the only ones…and it’s spreading fast.
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Please note: These are not HEA (happily ever after) or HFN (happily for now) endings. These are pure erotic tales with paranormal storylines, which might be classified as “erotic horror”, so some of the characters might not be entirely likable—like Russell Schmidt in One To Die For. But their character personalities are written to fit the stories (e.g., Russell has to be an arrogant prick for the ending to work).
The Ray Bradbury Challenge
Arial is posting free flash fiction (1,000 words or less) weekly on her blog for The Ray Bradbury Challenge. For 52 weeks, she’s creating a new short story for a productive writing challenge. Are you a writer? You can take the challenge, too! Visit her site for more details. www.ArialBurnz.com
Historical Notes
There are a few surprising tidbits I learned while conducting my research for Midnight Hunt. According to some of my sources, the Protestants were just as responsible as the Catholics for the persecutions during the witch trials, where my previous studies had led me to believe the Roman Catholic Church was the ultimate villain in history. To add another twist, most of the trials were conducted in the secular courts and by the local legal authorities. However, at this point in history, much of the law was still majorly influenced by the church, and the bulk of the Thirty Years War was about religion—a war between the Catholics and Protestants. Of course, this little scrap of information I provide here only scratches the surface of the complexity of this bloody war, responsible for a loss of more than one-third of the European population during the 17th century.
The witch trials were only a response to the panic and devastation of the Thirty Years War, and fed by the need to lay blame. The year my story takes place is near the tail-end of the witch trial craze and many people were beginning to finally emerge from the fever of accusations. There is a fascinating book, authored by a German Jesuit named Friedrich Spee, titled Cautio Criminalis (Precautions for Prosecutors). It was published anonymously in April 1631 and did much to argue against the use of torture, the inescapable methods of conviction and the extreme practices of execution. In the introduction, Marcus Hellyer—the translator of the book—gives a great background of the author and the mindset of the times. He explains that though this book may have not been a catalyst of change regarding the attitude of the prosecutions, it certain was a valuable resource for the cause. Spee’s arguments, presented in question and answer format, are derived from his personal experiences as a priest, who counseled many of the people convicted as witches and sentenced to such gruesome deaths. A highly recommended read if you’re interested in learning the inner workings of the witch trials.
Vollstadt and Kostbar are both fictional towns created for my setting. Having lived in Germany for three-and-a-half years, I was fortunate enough to learn some of their fabulous culture and history. However, one book did wonders to help me fill in the blanks regarding everyday living of that time period. Our Daily Bread: German Village Life, 1500-1850 by Teva J. Scheer.
Thank you for taking the time to read Midnight Hunt—Book 3 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles. I hope you enjoyed the story and you’re looking forward to Book 4—Midnight Eclipse! If you did like the book, reviews are always appreciated at Amazon, GoodReads, Barnes & Noble, iTunes or your favorite book review website. I invite you to visit my home on the web at www.ArialBurnz.com for updates on my latest tales, appearances, contests, and writing tips, as well as additional historical information, maps and character profiles for the series. I love to hear from my readers, so be sure to leave a comment on my blog.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Arial Burnz has been an avid reader of both paranormal and fantasy fiction for over thirty years. With bedtime stories filled with vampires, unicorns, hobbits, dragons and elves, she had no choice but to craft her own tales, penning to life the many magical creatures roaming her mind and dreams. And with a romantic husband who’s taught her the meaning of true love, she’s helpless to weave romance into her tales. Arial lives in Southern California, with her husband DeWayne (a.k.a. her romance novel hero)—who also happens to be a descendant of Clan MacDougal. Visit Arial’s website for the full story on that coincidence.
