[BookStrand Fantasy Romance]
An ancient warlord on a mission.
A sultry hoodoo enchantress steeped in magic.
Will their passion bind them together or burn them?
Passion heats up when Lleu, the oldest of the fabled Hunt Lords, tracks a royal assassin to the heart of Louisiana bayou country. He didn't expect to find a sultry hoodoo enchantress who fires his blood and makes him long for her forbidden love.
Will their burning desire be enough to make the fiercely independent Cissy accept the scarred elfin warrior’s claim on her?
A BookStrand Mainstream Romance
“You have interesting coloring,” Lleu commented a few hours later. He’d been admiring her hair in particular. It was a beautiful shade of gold with a wiry texture he’d never seen before. With her rich toffee skin and light blue eyes, it gave her an exotic look to match her exotic name—Cissy Trahan, he’d learned, of the Bayou Gauche Trahans.
“I’m Creole, cher,” she replied with a laugh. “There’s no telling what a Creole child is going to look like until they are a few years old. There’s enough color in my family that I have dark skin and enough French to have gold hair and blue eyes. How do you like the tea? Do you need some more?” she asked politely.
“I’m fine.” Lleu found himself enchanted by this unusual woman. He was also enjoying just being with another person, not something he was accustomed to. He was very old and had enough mental scars that he was uncomfortable in the company of others. As he’d sipped the three cups of tea—he wasn’t a tea drinker, either—he’d kept tasting it for potions or drugs.
“There was a time when a Creole woman with my coloring would have been highly sought after. They called us quadroons, courtesans and mistresses of the wealthy men of New Orleans. You, though—” she said as she turned and sauntered toward him, “I don’t know what you are.”
“Why do you say that?” he slurred. Lleu felt uneasy but couldn’t figure out why he should be bothered by her remark. She slid onto his lap, her long, slim legs straddling his hips. She slipped her hands over his shoulders and locked them behind his neck.
“Because, cher, it should not have taken so long to enthrall you.”
The unease flashed to a five-bell alarm, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to stir—other than his privates, anyway. That would be the point behind her enthralling me, he thought to himself. This kind of treachery is why I keep to myself!
“Are you in the habit of enthralling everyone you meet, then?” he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm despite being slightly slurred.
“Only the ones I wish to waylay,” she said, smirking.
“And you wished to waylay me why?”
“Purely selfish reasons, cher,” she said, her voice heavy with arousal as she grabbed a double handful of his hair, jerking his head back sharply. Lleu’s thoughts scattered when she lowered her head and drew her tongue from the base of his throat to just under his chin.
“And what reason is that, m’bandraoi diultach?” He gulped as her teeth nipped his chin, hard enough to sting without drawing blood.
“Donnella offered me an elfin spell if I promised to waylay her pursuers. For the chance to spend one night with an elf, I couldn’t resist,” the woman whispered in his ear. He realized she’d discovered it was pointed when her tongue lightly traced the outline of it. Ah, gods!
“You might have just asked if you wanted to mate, m’bandraoi diultach.” He groaned harshly when she wiggled her tight little butt and ground her center into his.
“What does that mean?” she whispered into his ear.
“What does what mean?” Lleu slurred, his mind completely fogged. His hands had crept around her trim waist of their own accord. One was holding her hips tightly to his swollen groin while the other was working her top up her back.
“What you called me, m’bandraoi diultach. What does it mean? I don’t know your language.”
“My treacherous witch.” He gulped as her teeth gently raked his lobe. “It means ‘my treacherous witch’ in elvish.” He whimpered when she pulled away to brush his hair back from his face, exposing a nasty scar from a sword cut that had almost beheaded him. He fought to make his eyes focus on her face and saw her eyes widen in shock. Not what she was expecting! his inner beast gloated. Lleu silently agreed. The little female may not have chosen him with honor or even an understanding of what she was doing, but she had chosen him. Her bright blue eyes locked with his then widened farther.
“Your eyes! I can see something moving behind them!” she gasped. Lleu clamped his arms down, steel vises holding the wildly squirming female from getting away.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Your games woke my wolf, m’bandraoi. Did no one ever warn you about using sex magic to enthrall a shifter lord?”