ebooks     ebooks
ebooks ebooks ebooks
ebooks
new titles Top Stories Home support
ebooks
 
Advanced Search
ebooks ebooks
Fiction
 Alternate History
 Children
 Classic Literature
 Dark Fantasy
 Erotica
 Fantasy
 Historical Fiction
 Horror
 Humor
 Mainstream
 Mystery/Crime
 Romance
 Science Fiction
 Suspense/Thriller
 Young Adult
ebooks
Nonfiction
 Business
 Children
 Education
 Family/Relationships
 General
 Health/Fitness
 History
 People
 Personal Finance
 Politics/Government
 Reference
 Self Improvement
 Spiritual/Religion
 Sports/Entertainm't
 Technology/Science
 Travel
 True Crime
ebooks
Formats
 MultiFormat
 Secure eReaderebooks
Browse
 Authors
 Award-Winners
 Bestsellers
 eMagazines
 New eBooks 
 Publishers
 Recommendations
 Series List
 Short Stories
ebooks
Miscellany
 About Us
 Author Info
 Help/FAQs
 Publisher Info
  ebooks

HACKER SAFE certified sites prevent over 99% of hacker crime.

Click on image to enlarge.

In the Blood [MultiFormat]
eBook by Abigail Barnette

eBook Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica
eBook Description: Her blood is his lifeline. His love could be her salvation? Call girl Cassandra Connely drifts through life in a haze of guilt and sedatives, burdened by a deadly mistake from her past and plagued by nightmares of horrific, clawed creatures. Her newest client is a mouth-watering distraction, and she finds herself intrigued by Viktor Novotny's eccentric?tastes. Until he touches her, and her nightmares become real. One look at the woman in the hot red dress, and Viktor rests assured he will hang onto his humanity at least one more night. In the century since an attack turned him into a vampire and killed his wife, regular sexual encounters are his only defense against becoming a mindless Minion. Yet when Cassie agrees to be his companion--and meal--for the evening, she stirs his soul in a way he hasn't felt since his lost lover. Viktor's haunted eyes pull at her heart, but Cassie cannot bear to feel anything, ever again. When she flees his apartment, though, she is in more peril than she knows. Tasting her blood without completing their union has left Viktor hungry for no other but her. And vulnerable to the very Minions that wait to drag him into the void. Worse, Cassie is their next target? Product Warnings Contains explicit love scenes that will make your blood boil over, including a brief m/m encounter, ill-advised (but oh-so-sexy) use of sharp objects, and hypnotic kisses that could--just for a moment--make you imagine you are Viktor's lady of the night. Copyright 2011 Abigail Barnette All rights reserved -- a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication. The apartment was nicer than anything Cassie had ever seen, in real life or the movies. The stairs were clear, tempered glass, anchored by a single steel spine down the center. The rails were slick black enamel, so shiny that she almost didn't want to put her hands on them for fear of leaving fingerprints. As they walked down, a large living room unfolded into view. Stiff, black sofas and chairs were arranged on the black marble floor around a plush white rug. Abstract sculptures in silver and tarnished bronze dotted the shelves and mantle, and a cubist painting in shades of gray hung over a sleek marble fireplace. Dark tinted windows stretched from floor to ceiling, and the view from the thirtieth story made Cassie's knees a bit weak. "Watch your step, miss," Anthony said, steadying her with a firm grip on her elbow. "Sorry. I'm afraid of heights." She took a deep breath to make the room stop spinning. You're not going to fall out of the windows. You don't even have to go near them. Just keep walking. A dark voice, startling in its nearness, cut through the relative silence of the room. "The view can be?intimidating." Cassie stopped, her feet seemingly fused to the stairs. Julie had said the guy was rich. She'd said he was nice. She hadn't mentioned that he was totally hot, or that his deep, gentle voice would turn her knees to water faster than any tall building ever could. Dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than any car Cassie would ever own, the man blended perfectly with his monochromatic surroundings. His hair, cut short and neat, was stark white, but not from age. He wasn't old. He wasn't young, either. His age was impossible to place on first glance. Everything, from his long, pale fingers buttoning his jacket to the carefully composed expression on his face suggested an elegant timelessness that intrigued Cassie more than she cared to admit. Realizing she stared, she tried to open her mouth to introduce herself, but he spoke first, a faint accent coloring his words. "I am Viktor Novotny. And you are?" "Cassandra," she whispered, then cleared her throat to speak up. "Cassandra. From 4-1-2." "Yes, Julie recommended you. Please, come in." He gestured to the room around him, and Cassie walked the rest of the way down the stairs on shaking legs. "Mr. Novotny, will you be needing anything else tonight?" Anthony asked. "No, thank you, Anthony, I believe I have all I need." He answered without taking his eyes off Cassie. The corner of his mouth ticked in a smile that should have put her at ease, but it unnerved her even more than his stark formality. "Please, sit down, Cassandra." Settling into a practiced pose on the couch, she managed to regain some of her self-assurance. "You have a beautiful accent. Where are you from, Mr. Novotny?" She wondered if that was a part of the Dracula act, as well. "Please, call me Viktor. Would you like some wine?" He stepped away before she could recite her strict rule about not drinking on the job. "I am originally from Czechoslovakia. But I have lived in New York City for a long time." He did not speak as he poured the wine. When he returned, he pressed a glass into her hand before settling into one of the arm chairs. "And you? Have you always lived in New York?" "No." Her automatic response was more curt than she would have liked. "I moved here about three years ago." She dropped her gaze to her wineglass. White. She didn't know whether to be surprised it wasn't red because of his strange fetish or unsurprised that it matched the decor. "So, Viktor, my friend Julie tells me that drinking blood really turns you on?" He nodded and sipped his wine, unembarrassed by his peculiar tastes. "I paid Julie a thousand dollars a visit. In return, I drank her blood. Does that make you uncomfortable?" "Do you want it to?" It was always best to know what got the client off at the start. "Is that part of the thrill?" "No, of course not." He set his glass down. It was still full. "I would not wish for you to do something?distasteful. If you are truly comfortable with the idea, then the job is yours. I would need an assurance that I could see you every week." Every week? Even if the guy was a little freaky, she could get past it for four thousand extra dollars a month. "I don't think that will be a problem. So, what happens, do you?bite me? And then we do it? Or we do it and then?" "No. I do not like to bite. It is not in causing pain that I find enjoyment." He reached into his jacket and produced a single, gleaming razor blade. "Julie preferred to cut herself, but I can do it, if you find it difficult. Some do." So, she wasn't his only supplier. She wondered how many girls he had lined up for this job and thought she should point out how vastly unsafe such practices were. She held her tongue. A man like this, with his expensive suits and palatial apartment, could afford clean tricks. "I think I'd rather do it. Don't take it personally, it's just that I don't know you well enough yet to trust you with a sharp implement." He laughed softly, and her stomach jumped in response. She could feel his gaze on her like a wave of heat searing to her bones. A client had never affected her this way before. She gulped down half her glass of wine, personal rules be damned, and tried to get her head on straight. A flush crept up her skin like a fever, burned through her like fire. "Come here." His softly spoken command sent electric shocks of arousal through her veins, and she rose on trembling legs. She stood before him, looking down as he studied her face, time swelling around them until she was sure she would scream just to break the tension. He gestured and said, simply, "Sit," and she found herself in his lap, the taut muscles of his thighs pressing into the backs of her legs as he pulled her to lie against his chest. "The razor," she had the presence of mind to say and, before she could panic at the potential danger of the situation, he pressed the flat of the blade into the palm of her hand. "Don't cut yourself," he warned, his lips moving like a phantom chill over the skin of her throat. "Not yet." It shouldn't be like this, she warned herself. It was her job to remain in control, to give a man his fantasy. It was her job. And still, as he tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder, stroking her throat with his long, gentle fingers, she wanted to surrender that control, more than she'd ever wanted anything. His hand dropped to her thigh, where the red fabric of her skirt rode up and he helped its ascent. His mouth fastened at her neck, teeth grazed her skin. His hands bunched on her skirt, raising it higher, fingers sliding over the red silk of her panties, now soaked to her skin. She moaned and writhed against him, pressing back against the unmistakable hard ridge of him beneath his trousers, and he whispered against her ear, "Now. Do it." The words shocked some sense into her, and with numb fingers she brought the blade to her neck. His hand caught her wrist. "Not unless you want to kill yourself," his dark voice scolded, and he brought the hand gripping the blade to her wrist. "Here. Not deep." She shook so badly he had to help her. The sting of the cut pulled a surprised cry from her, but the pain disappeared under the shocking cold of his mouth as he fastened it to the cut. The room darkened before her eyes. Had she cut too deep? Would he notice before it was too late? She tried to speak, but the darkness came over her too quickly, far too quickly to be bleeding to death. She knew what that was like, to be on the edge of death. This was not the same, though it was just as terrifying. She was falling, farther than the floor, and the monsters were on her.

eBook Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd., Published: 2011
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2011


4 Reader Ratings:
Great Good OK Poor


The apartment was nicer than anything Cassie had ever seen, in real life or the movies. The stairs were clear, tempered glass, anchored by a single steel spine down the center. The rails were slick black enamel, so shiny that she almost didn't want to put her hands on them for fear of leaving fingerprints. As they walked down, a large living room unfolded into view. Stiff, black sofas and chairs were arranged on the black marble floor around a plush white rug. Abstract sculptures in silver and tarnished bronze dotted the shelves and mantle, and a cubist painting in shades of gray hung over a sleek marble fireplace. Dark tinted windows stretched from floor to ceiling, and the view from the thirtieth story made Cassie's knees a bit weak.

"Watch your step, miss," Anthony said, steadying her with a firm grip on her elbow.

"Sorry. I'm afraid of heights." She took a deep breath to make the room stop spinning. You're not going to fall out of the windows. You don't even have to go near them. Just keep walking.

A dark voice, startling in its nearness, cut through the relative silence of the room. "The view can be...intimidating."

Cassie stopped, her feet seemingly fused to the stairs. Julie had said the guy was rich. She'd said he was nice. She hadn't mentioned that he was totally hot, or that his deep, gentle voice would turn her knees to water faster than any tall building ever could.

Dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than any car Cassie would ever own, the man blended perfectly with his monochromatic surroundings. His hair, cut short and neat, was stark white, but not from age. He wasn't old. He wasn't young, either. His age was impossible to place on first glance. Everything, from his long, pale fingers buttoning his jacket to the carefully composed expression on his face suggested an elegant timelessness that intrigued Cassie more than she cared to admit.

Realizing she stared, she tried to open her mouth to introduce herself, but he spoke first, a faint accent coloring his words. "I am Viktor Novotny. And you are?"

"Cassandra," she whispered, then cleared her throat to speak up. "Cassandra. From 4-1-2."

"Yes, Julie recommended you. Please, come in." He gestured to the room around him, and Cassie walked the rest of the way down the stairs on shaking legs.

"Mr. Novotny, will you be needing anything else tonight?" Anthony asked.

"No, thank you, Anthony, I believe I have all I need." He answered without taking his eyes off Cassie. The corner of his mouth ticked in a smile that should have put her at ease, but it unnerved her even more than his stark formality. "Please, sit down, Cassandra."

Settling into a practiced pose on the couch, she managed to regain some of her self-assurance. "You have a beautiful accent. Where are you from, Mr. Novotny?" She wondered if that was a part of the Dracula act, as well.

"Please, call me Viktor. Would you like some wine?" He stepped away before she could recite her strict rule about not drinking on the job. "I am originally from Czechoslovakia. But I have lived in New York City for a long time." He did not speak as he poured the wine. When he returned, he pressed a glass into her hand before settling into one of the arm chairs. "And you? Have you always lived in New York?"

"No." Her automatic response was more curt than she would have liked. "I moved here about three years ago."

She dropped her gaze to her wineglass. White. She didn't know whether to be surprised it wasn't red because of his strange fetish or unsurprised that it matched the decor. "So, Viktor, my friend Julie tells me that drinking blood really turns you on?"

He nodded and sipped his wine, unembarrassed by his peculiar tastes. "I paid Julie a thousand dollars a visit. In return, I drank her blood. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"Do you want it to?" It was always best to know what got the client off at the start. "Is that part of the thrill?"

"No, of course not." He set his glass down. It was still full. "I would not wish for you to do something...distasteful. If you are truly comfortable with the idea, then the job is yours. I would need an assurance that I could see you every week."

Every week? Even if the guy was a little freaky, she could get past it for four thousand extra dollars a month. "I don't think that will be a problem. So, what happens, do you...bite me? And then we do it? Or we do it and then..."

"No. I do not like to bite. It is not in causing pain that I find enjoyment." He reached into his jacket and produced a single, gleaming razor blade. "Julie preferred to cut herself, but I can do it, if you find it difficult. Some do."

So, she wasn't his only supplier. She wondered how many girls he had lined up for this job and thought she should point out how vastly unsafe such practices were. She held her tongue. A man like this, with his expensive suits and palatial apartment, could afford clean tricks. "I think I'd rather do it. Don't take it personally, it's just that I don't know you well enough yet to trust you with a sharp implement."

He laughed softly, and her stomach jumped in response. She could feel his gaze on her like a wave of heat searing to her bones. A client had never affected her this way before. She gulped down half her glass of wine, personal rules be damned, and tried to get her head on straight. A flush crept up her skin like a fever, burned through her like fire.

"Come here." His softly spoken command sent electric shocks of arousal through her veins, and she rose on trembling legs. She stood before him, looking down as he studied her face, time swelling around them until she was sure she would scream just to break the tension. He gestured and said, simply, "Sit," and she found herself in his lap, the taut muscles of his thighs pressing into the backs of her legs as he pulled her to lie against his chest.

"The razor," she had the presence of mind to say and, before she could panic at the potential danger of the situation, he pressed the flat of the blade into the palm of her hand.

"Don't cut yourself," he warned, his lips moving like a phantom chill over the skin of her throat. "Not yet."

It shouldn't be like this, she warned herself. It was her job to remain in control, to give a man his fantasy. It was her job. And still, as he tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder, stroking her throat with his long, gentle fingers, she wanted to surrender that control, more than she'd ever wanted anything.

His hand dropped to her thigh, where the red fabric of her skirt rode up and he helped its ascent. His mouth fastened at her neck, teeth grazed her skin. His hands bunched on her skirt, raising it higher, fingers sliding over the red silk of her panties, now soaked to her skin. She moaned and writhed against him, pressing back against the unmistakable hard ridge of him beneath his trousers, and he whispered against her ear, "Now. Do it."

The words shocked some sense into her, and with numb fingers she brought the blade to her neck. His hand caught her wrist. "Not unless you want to kill yourself," his dark voice scolded, and he brought the hand gripping the blade to her wrist. "Here. Not deep."

She shook so badly he had to help her. The sting of the cut pulled a surprised cry from her, but the pain disappeared under the shocking cold of his mouth as he fastened it to the cut.

The room darkened before her eyes. Had she cut too deep? Would he notice before it was too late? She tried to speak, but the darkness came over her too quickly, far too quickly to be bleeding to death. She knew what that was like, to be on the edge of death. This was not the same, though it was just as terrifying. She was falling, farther than the floor, and the monsters were on her.


Icon explanations:
Discounted eBook; added within the last 7 days.
eBook was added within the last 30 days.
eBook is in our best seller list.
eBook is in our highest rated list.

All pages of this site are Copyright © 2000- Fictionwise LLC.
Fictionwise (TM) is the trademark of Fictionwise LLC.
A Barnes & Noble Company

Bookshelf | For Authors | Privacy | Support | Terms of Use

eBook Resources at Barnes & Noble
eReader · eBooks · Free eBooks · Cheap eBooks · Romance eBooks · Fiction eBooks · Fantasy eBooks · Top eBooks · eTextbooks