Enjoy the excerpt from my latest self-pub release! And if you post a comment today, you’ll be entered in a drawing to win a download of my last dragon story, Arctic Dragon!

An ancient, cursed creature, Drago, Lord of Drakkenberg, dreads the anniversary that marks the moment he must devour a virgin or visit a plague of destruction on the world around him. Once every century, he becomes a dragon…

Angela has been blindfolded…

Angela shivered at the delicious growling texture of Lord Drakken’s voice. So he wanted to taste her? She didn’t think he was talking about a kiss. And despite how strange this whole interview was, she wasn’t really afraid for her virtue. He seemed willing to seduce her. And yet, a “taste” sounded so depraved. If the liquid heat wetting her panties was any clue, her body certainly wasn’t in opposition to the idea.

Yes, she was a virgin, but she wasn’t entirely clueless. “A taste, then you’ll give me what I want?”

“Entrée into a dungeon? Yes.”

She swallowed hard, intrigued, but wasn’t ready to fold without making sure of just what would be expected. “What do you want me to do?”

“Not a thing. Let my man prepare you.”

His man. The handsome “knight” she’d approached in the first place. He had plied her with a drink while he charmed her into relating her life story. How had he guessed she was a virgin? Was she that bad of a kisser? Or was it the ring on her finger?

He’d smiled. And then told her a bit about himself. Or only the bit about who employed him. She’d likely lit up like a Christmas tree, telegraphing her excitement. After that, she hadn’t paid close enough attention to the conversation because her mind had been abuzz with the possibilities. Entranced with who he worked for, as well as his handsome face.

For twelve long months since her aunt’s death, she’d waited for the chance to write something other than ads selling washing machines and yorkie-poos. She’d hired on because of the carrot the editor had held out, promising her a shot at feature writing. Excitedly, she’d accepted the minimum wage job to get her foot in the door, sure she’d be writing features in no time, and not caring about what. Even if all she got was a chance to cover the local high school game or a spread for the Sunday paper with pictures of the winner of the Garden Club’s Best Rose contest, that opportunity would be her start.

But she’d languished in her cubicle. She’d led such a sheltered life, she didn’t know the town or the people. Unfortunately, she’d never learned to mingle, preferring to spend her time after work alone at home, reading. Truthfully, she didn’t possess the necessary knowledge to make the connections she needed to find just the right story to launch her career.

On occasion, she’d dabbled with the idea of writing fiction. A stumbling block was knowing where to begin or whether her imagination was big enough to dream up the grandiose stories she preferred of vampires seducing innocents for the blood, of demons finding redemption when they found true love.

Sure, she knew about desire, had felt it a time or two, inspired by the heroes in her favorite stories, but she’d never been tempted. Not like she was now. Two men surrounded her while she was blindfolded. So much like the naughty BDSM scenarios she’d read with shock, then growing arousal. But she hadn’t known where to go to sate her curiosity.

A large hand cupped her shoulder again. “Are you brave enough?” Guy whispered beside her ear.

A fresh quiver shook her body, and she understood that what was being asked was something dark and sensual. Lord Drakken spoke of being satisfied simply by attempting to seduce her. It was up to her to remain strong—or to give into her curiosity.

In any event, she trusted she wouldn’t be harmed, not when they were the new local celebrities in this tiny mountain town. Their every move was watched and gossiped about. She’d been seen in the company of the Lord Drakken’s man. She was safe, her virtue hers to keep or give away.

Angela cleared her throat. “What do you want me to do?” she asked, surprised by the husky texture of her own voice.

“Nothing,” Guy said from behind her, his hand gliding on her shoulder. “But I’ll remove your clothing.”

Her heart stuttered, then thrummed to a quick beat. “You’ll both see me?”

“Yes.”

Goose flesh rose along her skin. “This won’t be a reciprocal thing?”

“The blindfold remains.”

She turned her head closer to whisper, “Is he scarred? Homely? Not that I guess it matters, but I’d like to understand the need for this,” she said, pointing at the blindfold.

A chuckle gusted against her cheek. “He’s handsome. Women throw themselves at him.”

“When? He never leaves the castle.”

“When he’s comfortable here, he will. After he’s been fed.”

Fed? Her body warmed, imagining a sensual feast of luscious fruits, exotic meats and fine wines. She shook her head again. “You speak in riddles.”

“And you are a curious sort. Take a leap,” he said, his voice nearly purring. “With us. We’ll take care of you, Angel.”

Someone taking care of her for a change. How she longed for that. Only they weren’t talking about anything beyond this moment. Certainly not the forever kind of love she’d read about and yearned for. Still, the experience might be helpful to her education as a woman to understand real desire and passion. “You’ll stop whenever I say?”

His hand tightened on her shoulder then slid down to rest atop her breast.

Shock held her still. When he thumbed the tip of her breast through her clothing, her breath left in a whoosh. A tingling sensation tightened the bud and it expanded. When his fingers plucked it, she felt an answering tug in her womb.

His hand withdrew, and the cushion lowered beside her as he knelt. His hands settled at her waist, then pushed up the tee. Before he asked, she raised her arms above her head, trembling as the garment slid upward then away. She dropped her arms.

Fingers slid beneath the snaps of her bra, twisted, and the cups fell away, leaving her breasts exposed. She knew how she looked, her hair disheveled, her nipples beaded, likely flushed a deep cherry. Trembling with a wild mixture of fear and excitement, she curled her fingers on the chair, fighting the urge to cover herself.

“You’ll have to stand,” he murmured.

She would have liked a little praise, a remark to let her know whether her appearance pleased them. But she swung her legs forward and stood, despite the weakened condition of her knees.

Hands gripped an ankle and she reached out, grabbing muscled shoulders to steady herself as he removed first one then the other shoe. When he tucked fingers beneath the waist of her jeans, she sucked in a deep breath, but let him unbutton and unzip. Next, he dragged away her jeans and panties, and again she gripped his shoulders to step out of the clothing.

When she was nude, she reconsidered the impulse that had kept her compliant. The air around her felt charged with excitement. The only sounds she could hear were her own heartbeats thudding inside her chest.

Then footsteps neared. Lord Drakken’s.

Angela straightened her back and released her grip on his man’s shoulder, feigning a more confident air than she felt.

“She’s lovely, Guy.” His voice held a roughened gritty note. “You chose well.”

“No choosing involved,” Guy said, amusement in his tone. “She approached me.”

“She is right here,” Angela bit out, feeling her skin retract in gooseflesh because she felt the first stirring of unease. “Guy, you were hunting for a woman today? Someone to bring to your master?”

“We were…hopeful of meeting the right woman.”

“Singular?” Blood thumping in her ears, she turned to where Guy had been. “Do you share your conquests?”

“Always,” Lord Drakken said. “I need Guy here to curb my impulses.”

Impulses? Her stomach clenched. “I don’t understand.”

“And it’s better that you do not. May I taste?”

She tilted her head upward. “Why do you even ask? I’ve already conceded so much.”

Hot breath, scented with mint, brushed her mouth. “Do you like being at my mercy?”

She was nude. Her nipples sprung by arousal so strong, her body trembled. Lying now would only feel foolish. “I find that I do.”

a

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