The Lion’s Den club was better than I ever imagined and my worst nightmares, all combined.
I thought I was going to explore my darkest fantasies. Gain a better understanding of myself and discover what I’d been missing in life.
Instead, I made a deal with the devil.
I had hoped I wouldn’t see anyone I knew at the club. Coming face-to-face with Filip De Luca was a worst-case scenario.
Filip was effortless power seething beneath a playboy exterior. A host of sharp edges disguised behind a cavalier grin. Inescapably alluring and devastatingly dangerous.
He promised he wouldn’t tell my father about seeing me at the club. I had his blessing to dip my toes into the dark waters of deviancy.
The catch? Filip would guide me on this journey. He would control every aspect of my exploration. Set every boundary and command my obedience to his rules.
I thought I could live with his terms. Gain the experience I wanted from a partner I could trust.
What a naïve fool I’d been to think our bargain could ever be so simple.
He nodded and motioned to the elevator. When his hand grazed my lower back, I stiffened. His touch was too seductive to be allowed. Not when I had more pressing matters to delve into. I would not allow lust to break down my resolve. Nothing would come between me and what I had to say.
I charged past the main room, not taking notice of the activities within. I had one purpose, one directive, and I wasn’t interested in distractions. When the door to his room closed behind us, a swell of words and emotions wedged a knot in my throat. I wasn’t the crying type. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shed a tear, yet my nose began to sting with the telltale signs.
I took a deep, steadying breath before meeting Filip’s wary gaze. “How dare you blacklist me from another club.” My words were unsteady but still laced with venom. “You had no right.”
His eyes narrowed to angry slits. “You went to another club without even trying to talk through this with me first?”
“I don’t owe you anything. If I want to join another club, that’s my choice. My life.” I jabbed a finger at my chest, my voice growing stronger.
“I was trying to keep you safe, Camilla.”
“You were trying to control me!” I shouted back.
Filip charged, pinning me against the wall. His shallow breaths came unevenly through parted lips. The jagged flint in his eyes sparked as his gaze bore relentlessly deep into my soul. “I’ve always been perfectly honest with you about my need for control. I never pretended to be a saint, and I certainly didn’t give you the impression I was some kind of fucking Boy Scout. I do whatever is needed to protect what I value. My family. My home. You. Not to mention the fact that we made an agreement, and under the terms of our agreement, every inch of this body is mine. I’m not letting another man anywhere near you.”
“You don’t own me,” I hissed back, shoving my hands hard against his chest.
Filip clamped his hands around my wrists and subdued my assault with ease. “No, I don’t own you, but I do have a responsibility to protect you. You won’t always like my methods, but at least I know I’ve done my job.”
“It was a simple arrangement! It wasn’t like we signed in blood or something, which was evident since you’ve changed the terms. And besides, it sounds like this is more about you than me. It’s your duty that’s important to you, your ability to control those around you, and not my actual safety that’s so critical.”
His nostrils flared, and I got the sense I’d struck a nerve.
He took in three even breaths before delivering a devastating defense. “My mother was killed when I was only five,” he deadpanned in a hollow voice. “I spent the next half a decade being tossed from one relative to the next with zero stability in my life or control over what happened to me. I don’t just have a need for control; I can’t survive without it. When I feel the things that mean the most to me slipping from my control, I become crazed, and I can’t think straight. You, more than anything else, cause me to lose my fucking mind.”
Award-winning author of contemporary and fantasy romance. With Jill’s books, you can count on confident heroines, plenty of steamy tension, and deliciously assertive leading men. There are no guarantees in life, but with her books, you know everything will work out in the end. However, a perfect ending would not be nearly as satisfying without a seemingly insurmountable challenge. Jill loves to add plenty of adversity in her stories, creating unforgettably dynamic characters and sneaky plot twists you will never see coming.
Title: We Have Till Monday Author: Cara Dee Genre: Contemporary LGBTQ+ Romance
When it seemed like everyone around Anthony Fender was reaching a goal or falling in love, he blamed an early midlife crisis for throwing him far outside of his comfort zone. Nashville was a long way from New York and his everyday life that’d lost all color lately.
Hopefully, this vacation would reenergize him, and maybe a cooking class with celebrity chef August King could end Anthony’s reign as the only Italian in Brooklyn who couldn’t boil water. But when he met August and his much younger husband Camden, every plan and all rational thought flew out the window. Their dynamic grabbed hold of Anthony and reeled him in before he even heard the magic word.
Taking a swig of my beer, I returned to my notifications to see if there was anything else. A couple new followers, one of whom was a student. I didn’t recognize the other follower, not the username or the profile photo. I clicked on the profile and felt my eyebrows crawl up toward my hairline.
Definitely a random NSFW user. I didn’t follow those. My account was essentially the official account for the Initiative, and God forbid a student checked out who I followed.
I scrolled down a little, because why not, and shifted in my seat. Someone was into kink. Gay kink, to boot. I had two friends who were into this too. By day, Greg and Moshe worked in accounting and education, and they raised two children together. When they had babysitters, Greg was a Daddy Dom who called Moshe his little boy.
All the photos on this account were black-and-white, not to mention heavily shadowed. Both sexy and beautiful. One hinted at a man kneeling in front of another, and he had his cheek resting against the dominant man’s thigh. Without revealing any details or features, the picture had peacefulness written all over it.
Must be a nice feeling.
Oh, hands. I clicked on a photo displaying two hands, one gripping the wrist of the other, and I squinted at a small tattoo. Hadn’t I seen that before? I assumed it was the submissive guy who had his wrist in someone’s hold, and he had a small snake that slithered up along the side of his thumb. I was sure I’d seen it before.
I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.
There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.
I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
Meira Amon is the most reserved of the phoenixes, finding computers easier to deal with than people and their messy emotions. But she wants revenge against the Rotting King Pytheios for the murder of her parents just as much as her sisters. Offering herself as a queen for their ally, dragon shifter King Gorgon of the Black Clan, only makes sense.
Just one problem…
Samael Veles worked his lowborn ass off to become the fiercest warrior of the Black Clan. He has pledged his life to protect his king at all costs. Yet somehow, in the middle of war, he took one look at a woman in a reflection and gave up his heart. When that woman turns out to be the phoenix promised to mate his king and help bring peace to their kind, he has no choice but to accept it.
Until her fire unexpectedly destroys the king after they’ve wed. Now Samael must choose between his loyalty to his clan and protecting the queen who might be his mate from his people’s wrath, one of which will unlock a destiny no one could have ever imagined…
Her breath caught in her throat when he covered her hand with his own and squeezed. “It will get easier for you,” he said. “The memories. For a long time, you won’t want to think of your mother at all. Then one day when you do, it won’t hurt so much. Eventually, you’ll be able to think of her and smile.”
This from a man who never smiled. At least not that he let her see.
The unexpected offer of comfort unfurled inside her, wrapped around her. Gods above, she wanted to kiss him. Lean forward and steal that unexpected understanding from his lips. Lips Meira could only describe as sensual, saving his face from harshness.
And more. All different sorts of kisses. A soft brush of her lips as a thank-you. A kiss that lingered, taking its time to weave a spell around them. Something hot and openmouthed that let her taste him and generated enough heat to scorch every part of her. She was already on fire.
Except she shouldn’t be wanting this. Any of it.
More guilt. She’d suffocate under the heaps if she wasn’t careful.
Meira slid her hand out from beneath his, the cold air of the room rushing against her palm making her shiver after the heat of his touch and her thoughts.
“So, do you have any friends?” Curiosity prompted her to ask. Gods, why couldn’t she shut up around him? This conversation was already a thousand words more than she usually shared with people.
Samael heaved a sigh with an edge to it and turned his head to face her again. “Do you always have this many questions?”
She offered him a prim look, lips pursed. “My lawyers say I don’t have to answer that.”
Samael gazed at her blankly, then turned his face back up. “Was that you trying to be funny?”
“Did it work?” She bit her lip, waiting for his answer. Most people didn’t get her sense of humor.
“That depends.”
“On what?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.
“Your intent. Were you genuinely trying to make me laugh? Or were you trying to change the subject?”
“I guess I’m nervous.” Now why had she gone and admitted that?
Rather than turn his head again, Samael shifted to his side to face her, his smoke and sand scent swirling around her, soothing her when she should’ve been bracing for whatever he was about to ask. His hand lay on the mattress beside hers. Not touching. What would he do if she hooked her little finger around his, as though he was her anchor?
Maybe he’d been right to want to avoid sharing the bed. This was too close, too intimate. Too damn confusing.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
She should lie and say yes. Any person with an ounce of common sense would be wary of him. His danger evident in the simple way he moved—a prowling, rolling gait—screamed perilous predator.
Meira slowly shook her head. “No.”
Nervous of giving her unfortunate thoughts away? Yes. Of the lash of his volatile emotions? The answer would have been yes before they’d come here. Now…
“You should be,” he said, voice going rougher, harsher.
Multi-award-winning paranormal romance author, Abigail Owen, loves plots that move hot and fast, feisty heroines with sass, alpha heroes with heart, a dash of snark, and oodles of sexy shifters! Other titles include wife, mother, Star Wars geek, ex-competitive skydiver, spreadsheet lover, Dr. Seuss quoter, eMBA, organizational guru, Texan, Aggie, and chocoholic.
Abigail grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. She attempted to find a practical career related to her favorite pastime by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing). However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it.
Abigail currently resides in Austin, Texas, with her own personal hero (who she totally married!) and their two children, who are growing up way too fast.
