Next in line to lead the vampire species, Princess Naya Kensington has always abided by her royal responsibilities. At the urging of her best friend, Naya breaks the rules and crosses the line when she goes to a human nightclub. Following a chance encounter, Naya alters her life with a singular act forged from lust and blood.
Vaughn Llewelyn has secrets and obligations of his own, but he ignores them when he spots Naya across the nightclub. He wants her in a way he’s never felt before, and although he can’t possibly have more than one night with Naya, he knows no one else will do.
One night of forbidden love creates a bond that will forever change both of their lives…as well as their worlds.
As Naya moved closer, she found a small opening near the corner of the bar. When she reached the counter, it was obvious as to why the space had been empty. Next to her sat a disheveled man perched on a stool. He stank of alcohol and smelled like he was about a week overdue for a shower. He ogled her, making her uncomfortable, but people were swarming the bar around her, so she was unable to put the space she wanted between herself and the dirty drunk.
However, she was sick of people forcing her to do things she didn’t want to do, whether it was consciously or subconsciously on their part. She was going to get a drink, head to the floor, and dance until she started to have fun, even if it killed her. She would not let anyone ruin her plans.
“Hey, baby,” he said as he scooted closer, looking her up and down and almost falling over in the process. Apparently, his intoxicated state wasn’t going to stop him because he next slurred, “You’re hot,” as he swayed into her personal bubble.
She’d had to hold her breath when he spoke since his teeth hadn’t met a toothbrush in some time.
Naya faced forward and ignored him, hoping he would get the hint. While situations like this didn’t happen often, she had learned that silence was sometimes the best policy.
He leaned in closer. “I said, hey, baby.”
This time, she gave him a stern look. “Sir, I am not your baby.” She turned away, praying the straightforward approach would work.
“Wanna come home with me tonight? We can grab a six-pack of beer and fuck.”
She gasped. “No!” Gross.
“What? You don’t like beer?” He laughed at his joke and extended his hand to touch her.
She jerked her arm away and lifted her chin with confidence. “I’m here with someone.”
If only it were true.
He called her bluff. “I don’t see anyone with you. Why are you playing hard to get, dollface?”
She groaned. Why won’t he go away?
She took a small step back, irritated that she had to be the one to leave, when she sensed a presence behind her. Even though she couldn’t see the person, she knew immediately that he was big, male, and powerful. But she wasn’t afraid. In fact, a calm sense of relief came over her, and she instinctively recognized he was the one who had been watching her. The deep feelings he’d first stirred in her now flared to life. Anticipation, excitement, arousal, and exhilaration fused into one. Her head was spinning as her nostrils flared, and the lonely place between her legs blazed to life.
From the mirror behind the bar, she caught a glimpse of a virile male before he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, engulfing her body with his own. He kissed her neck and lingered there as if he had the right.
She tilted her head and let him.
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R.L. Kenderson is two best friends writing under one name. Renae wrote her first poem in third grade and learned she might have a knack for this writing thing, while Lara remembers sneaking her grandmother’s Harlequin novels when she was probably too young to be reading them and always knew she wanted to write her own.
When they met in college, they bonded over their love of reading and the TV show Charmed. What really spiced up their friendship was when Lara introduced Renae to romance novels, and when they discovered their first vampire romance they knew there would always be a special place in their hearts for paranormal romance. After being unable to find certain storylines and characteristics they wanted to read about in the hundreds of books they consumed, they decided to write their own.
They both live in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area where they’re a sonographer/stay-at-home mom and pharmacist by day and sexy author by night.
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Descent Into Darkness
Spanning almost two centuries Descent Into Darkness is the erotic love story of an ancient vampire and the mortal woman who is his obsession.
Alexander DeLenoir is an ancient creature of the night, born in a betrayal that has left him without conscience or morality. He’s witnessed history that is now myth. Throughout his long life, Alexander has seldom sought companionship, and never has he looked for love. He has kept two of his immortal children with him, through whatever means necessary, and is not intending to expand his family.
Arriving at a small Massachusetts town after killing the sailors on their ship, the vampire trio meets the mysterious and lonely wife of the innkeeper, and Alexander is entranced by her beauty and her indomitable spirit. In Amberlaine Calvert, he senses a nature as dark and depraved as his own seeking freedom. Despite the protests of his companions, Alexander takes her and in adoration of him finds an obsessive kind of happiness.
When the town slowly awakens to the evil among them, a bloody slaughter ensues, and Amberlaine is forced to see the madness that will define her life with Alexander. Yet, in spite of her fear, she is obsessively devoted to the powerful vampire, and the darker things she feels lurking within her are about to be unleashed by a hunger even greater than her passion—the thirst for revenge against those who dare to threaten their existence…
“What is her name?”
“Whose name?” he asked as he shook off the ancient memories.
“Your daughter,” she insisted with an impatient toss of her head. “Is she one of us? Do you still keep her safe and protect her?”
“Diana needs no one to protect her,” he answered blandly. Especially the true father she does not know she has, he added mentally. He had been very careful to erase that knowledge from her memory, an appallingly easy task, even for one as inexperienced as he had been then.
“Diana,” she repeated thoughtfully. “It’s very pretty. And very elegant, as your name is,” she concluded with a grin.
“And your name, Camille, is very old. Do you know what it means?” he wondered, only now seeing the irony of it, himself.
“Tell me, cara mia,” she requested as she rose and sat astride his thighs. She was leaning into his neck when his laughter woke a warning inside her.
“It is from the Etruscan, one of the most ancient languages. Your name means ‘attendant at a sacrifice’,” he told her with mocking amusement. “It is most appropriate, is it not, cara?”
She started to pull away, but his hands on her upper arms prevented the escape she suddenly, desperately wanted. One of the talon like hands glided over her skin and buried in her hair. Terror choked her and she began pounding on his chest in an effort to dislodge him.
“Happy Birthday, cara,” Alexander murmured, his rich, silky voice low with provocative warmth. He jerked her head hard and sank his fangs into the soft, exposed skin of her throat. Tender flesh yielded to the razor-edge of his canines, and she whimpered weakly as he drank.
She wasn’t quite dead when he released her and climbed out of the bed. Her eyes watched every movement he made, and pleaded silently for help he wouldn’t give. He dressed and sat on the edge of the mattress again. Pale, slender fingers raked through the heavy fall of her dark hair, and he smiled lazily.
“Are you happy with your present, Camille?” he questioned.
She said nothing, merely stared. Of course, it wasn’t likely she could speak, he admitted when he noted her ruined throat.
“I have enjoyed our time together,” he told her with a smile. “I have even enjoyed sharing this secret with you. It’s been so long since I was able to speak of such distant things.” His tone was polite and conversational, eerily so. “But, such a weapon is a danger to me, cara. Therefore, I must protect myself against possible betrayal. You understand, don’t you?”
His laughter filled the room, and the sound was a horrifying mixture of insanity and pleasure. Alexander rose, donned the elegant evening cape he had selected earlier, and bent to place a light kiss on her forehead.
Camille stared, her eyes begged for mercy. His cold contempt shattered the last shred of will she possessed. The scritch of a match being struck, then the hiss of noise as it bloomed into flame, were now the only sounds within the room.
Alexander dropped the insignificant torch onto the bed and stepped back. He watched the sheets begin to burn as the searing tongues of fire fanned outward and slowly consumed the massive piece of furniture. Camille’s scream echoed in his mind as she died a true death, and he silenced the annoying intrusion with a swiftness that came from vast lifetimes of experience.
He walked from the room as the fire intensified, and knew the house itself would be ablaze long before any emergency services would be notified. He stepped out into the balmy night and strolled down the walk.
He was tired of San Francisco, he decided as he covered the ground in long, graceful strides. Talking of Diana reminded him of how long it had been since he’d seen her. And, he knew, she would know where to find Julian. His loneliness had made him whimsical this night. Perhaps it was time to reclaim the children who meant most to him? Particularly his most troublesome child.
Julian had been allowed to run free for far too long. Alexander now wanted him back. If the young nobleman refused him, Alexander would destroy him--as he had the other son who had forsaken his love so long ago.
The ancient vampire felt an unwelcome memory tugging at his heart as he continued to walk. The smell of the fire woke a pain he hadn’t permitted himself to feel for almost two hundred years. He’d lost her to fire and the grief he’d refused to accept still haunted him. His footsteps slowed momentarily, then he pushed away her image with a force of will that had been centuries in the making. Alexander shook his head, pretended he couldn’t recall the soft fragrance of wildflowers and the silken feel of copper hair as it streamed over his naked skin, the gentle smile contained within smoke-grey eyes, and the sensual knowledge of the truest lover he had ever claimed. His beautiful, devoted Amberlaine. Lost to him for nearly three centuries.
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Canadian born and bred, and a lifelong dreamer, I began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when I wasn’t creating in some artistic form. My life has had several on-going love affairs that shape much of what I write, the American West, Victorian England, cowboys, a passion for pirates, Greek Gods, and Ancient Egypt. The other endless love affairs in my life are Italia and all its magic, beauty, and dazzling culture, and a passion for Romania. Those loves spill into all aspects of my life.
In the past half dozen years, I’ve signed with over a dozen publishers, and have released books in all lengths and genres, and it’s something I hope to continue to do for many more years. A visit to my website will show the diversity of what is currently available, and the mixing of genres and styles that will be employed in many up-coming projects as well.
Voted Preditors and Editors Best Author of 2012 and 2013
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R.L. Kenderson is giving away two ebook copies of Forbidden Blood, and a $10 Amazon GC.
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Musings from Michigan