Check out Bloodlust Denied by Christina Phillips
Tired of the thin-blooded aristocrats in 1815 London, Alexius yearns for better sport. He is drawn to a dark-haired seductress who shows no fear and refuses to obey his commands. Entranced by such novelty, he denies his bloodlust and decides to keep her to warm his bed.
Immortal vampire hunter Morana has never mistaken her prey before, but the dark stranger mesmerizes her, enticing her to forget everything but the dangerous pleasure she finds in his arms.
Neither one can deny the pull of the other, but there is something beyond the lust—a recognition neither can put a name to. The past and present collide and unless they discover the truth behind the lies, Death will triumph once more.
Inside Scoop: Silk makes much softer shackles than iron, but is just as binding as our lovers engage in light BDSM sport with spanking and mild submission in this risqué Regency story.
A ripple of movement around her drew her reluctantly back to the present. The elderly Lady Harriet, her unwary mentor tonight, fluttered like a flustered schoolgirl as the young gentlemen retreated and Mr. Shaw, the Master of Ceremonies, approached, unaccountably beaming with delight.
The breath strangled in her throat, heart collided against her ribs. The tall, broad shouldered man being introduced to Lady Harriet was the reason she questioned her purpose, her existence, her sanity.
She tried to relax her fingers before they shattered her fragile fan, but it was her only lifeline. The only thing preventing her from doing or saying something so outrageous the ton would gossip about her for innumerable Seasons to come.
They turned to her. She heard Mr. Shaw explain she was the Lady Harriet’s great-niece, but his voice came from a great distance as each amplified beat of her heart echoed through her ears and thundered through her blood.
“May I present His Grace, the Duke of Havenshire.”
He bowed, and a shiver raced along her spine as she recalled the last time he had bowed to her just seconds after she’d demanded his soul. She forced a curtsey, her knees stiff, thighs shaking and finally risked glancing up at him.
Vibrant green eyes mocked her in a face so starkly beautiful her breath escaped in a shocked gasp. The flickering lantern in the alley had revealed his strong jaw, his high cheekbones and sensual lips, but had concealed the extent of his charismatic allure that enfolded her like a living entity.
But his eyes. She stared into them, mesmerized. In the dark alley, it had been impossible to discern their color and yet she knew these eyes. They were as familiar to her as her own but that was impossible. Madness.
He was speaking. She struggled to clear her mind, to compose her senses. Resisted the urge to press her hand against her face, just to check her cheeks weren’t really as hot as they felt.
“May I have the honor of this dance, Miss Craven?” The quirk of his mouth was the only indication he found such formality amusing. She flicked the tip of her tongue over her lips and didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the movement.
She could refuse. Turn and run. And knew she never would.
Christina loves writing dark tales of tough, sexy warriors and vampires who are brought to their knees by their heroines. A mystical touch of fantasy or paranormal usually weaves its way through her stories, although strangely enough this wasn’t her intention when she first starting writing her historical romances. But when ancient gods and goddesses get involved, it’s best just to go with the flow
Christina is an ex-pat Brit who now lives in sunny Western Australia with her family. She is also owned by three gorgeous cats who are convinced the universe revolves around their needs. They are not wrong.
I have an e-copy of Bloodlust Denied to giveaway to one lucky commenter on this post Just leave a comment or let me know which you prefer – sparkly or spanky?