“Master,” she taunted him, “do you give me permission to sit on your cock?”

  He licked his lips. “Tell me first if you really want it.”

  “I want it. I need it inside me. I’m wet for you, Master.”

  “How wet?”

  “Soaking wet. Look, if I do this,” she took his cock in a little, and they both sighed. “See how it glides in easily?”

  “I’m not convinced. Maybe you should…”

  He moaned as she fully sat on him. Then she leaned towards him, placing a nipple on his lips. “Lick me, Master. Lick me till I cry out.”

  He enfolded the bud in his mouth, his tongue searing her flesh. She moved up and down, calling him master, conducting their pleasure to fulfilment. About to erupt in her, he took her face in his hands.

  “Look at me, slave,” he said roughly, “look at me when I’m coming!”

  His fangs came out, and a sense of triumph flooded her soul. His profound cry of joy released her impending orgasm, violent tremors rattling their joined bodies.

  After years of loneliness, she had finally found her mate. The only creature who could understand the nature of her mission, who could appreciate both the woman and the gelder. And, deep inside, she knew he’d never leave her.

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  Lincoln’s Woman

  Natalie Dae

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  I swirled the Burgundy, head clear despite having sipped two glasses. This evening was meant to be a time for me and my lover to spend together, to forget all the worries that plagued me daily, but it seemed the wine had made me melancholy, my mind circling around the latest problems to come our way.

  Problems that could destroy every one of us. Broughton and Amrit…their names resounded through my mind, a discordant melody.

  I needed to revise our list, send it to The Coterie’s members so they’d be on higher alert for the two who insisted on trying to harm us.

  “Cormag, please stop thinking!” Anstace said, placing her glass on the small table beside the sofa opposite mine. “Just for one night.”

  Her Scottish accent had become less broad with time. A part of me was sad she had lost the strong burr. Oh, we still lived in Scotland for the most part, but our travels over the years had ensured Anstace heard many new accents. This woman of mine liked to mimic them, and time had dulled the sharp edges of her usual accent so it sounded more British.

  “But I—”

  “Enough!”

  I mused that she had called me by my name, something she rarely did. The absence of her usual term, ‘darling’, showed me, along with her frown, that she was annoyed.

  Cormag. It means Son of Defilement, but I am far from that. I do not defile anyone…much. Not in the sense one might think, and only for The Coterie, the good of our kind, their kind. Immortals. Mortals. The name stuck many moons ago and has perhaps added to the mysticism surrounding us, given us a darker edge, one that we do not deserve, but suffer all the same. Who are we to prove otherwise? When humans see us or talk of us, they become frightened or…one of us, out of necessity.

  We are bad, so they say. A race to be feared. The word vampire alone inspires horror and dread, images of pasty-faced beings, teeth bared, with blood dripping from chins.

  I sighed—yes, I can do that—and thought of the trouble humans have caused in the past. How our kind are perceived due to loose tongues and vivid imaginations. Creating myths, which are just that. Myths. Stories that have evolved and gained layers over the years, twists and turns that have made us appear something we are not. It would be useless to try and say we are not like…that. And who would believe us if we tried to explain?

  After all, we do bite, we do drink blood, we do turn mortals.

  I looked at a naked Anstace, my attendant these many, many centuries, as she stretched out on the settee. She looked exactly as she did the day we met. Blonde hair the same shade as mine spread over her full breasts. Peaches-and-cream complexion. Slender build. Except now her green eyes turned amber when she was angered or hungry or…needy. My cock stirred at the sight of her, at thoughts of how her soft flesh felt against mine. Of how her cunt contracted around my dick as she rode out her orgasm. She was a beauty, no doubt about that, learning our ways, learning to love me.

  I turned her so long ago. Too many years to count. I had remained alone most of my ‘life’ until I met Anstace—and that was what it was, a life, regardless of whether I was immortal or not. I still breathed, still ate, still had dreams and desires. Although I avoided the harshness of sunlight, I still woke every morning, went through the motions, worked my way to the position I now held—leader of The Coterie. The one who kept everyone in line, making sure mortals were safe from their own kind, safe from murderers, pillagers, rapists.

  The Coterie turned those bad people into who I was, and they worked for me…or not. Some had chosen their own path, and rather than force them to take the good road, I allowed them their freedom.

  But if they cross the line, if they remain as evil as they were as mortals, they are…dealt with. I see them, know their every move if I choose to link to them, and they know not of my mind-probing. Unless I wish them to.

  As a young Scottish vampire, I had needed a wife of sorts, someone to share my existence. Anstace had come willingly, knowing what I was, her quest to live forever her only aim at the time. I had explained, after her painful and disorienting turn, that living forever with me wasn’t something to be taken lightly. She’d waved her hand and turned away from me as though I spoke of nothing more than trifles, as though what I did and still do was of no consequence to her.

  “Ah, but it is,” I’d said, gripping her upper arm and spinning her to face me.

  She stared, the outer edges of her eyes clouding with amber. “But according to the myths, darling, I am just your woman. Someone you turn to when blood isn’t available. Someone to sup from.” She narrowed those eyes and wrinkled her nose with distaste. “Someone to fuck.”

  The anger slewed out of me, replaced by fierce laughter. She had no idea…

  So I pulled her to me, her breasts to my chest, and by God I wanted to take her there and then. Fill her with my cock and thrust until she begged me to make her come. Bite her neck and drink her blood, the warmth of it sliding down my throat like a fine mulled wine. Yet I resisted, for wouldn’t I have proved her point?

  Someone to sup. Someone to fuck.

  “I hear you,” she said now. “Thinking of the past does no good. It is gone. We cannot change a thing.” She smiled her brilliant white smile, teeth elongating, eyes taking on a glazed look. “Besides, we are in love. It took some time, but you managed to make me love you.”

  I smiled back, feeling her pull, knowing my thoughts had turned her on. “Thinking of the past helps me prepare for the future. And that is not too bright if—”

  “There is no ‘if’, darling.” She rose and came over to sit beside me, curling her fingers around my wrist and leaning her head against my arm. “You will not fail The Coterie. Those who wish you dead…” She snorted derisively. “They cannot win against someone as strong as you. You have been around far too long.”

  Broughton and Amrit….Broughton and Amrit…

  I shoved those thoughts away, heard her heart beating as if it were mine, her pulse thrumming, and smiled again at yet another myth. We are immortal, not undead. We still breathe, eat, sleep and drink. How else could we roam the earth if our bodies were dead?

  “How else could we be able to come?” she whispered.

  And I knew without looking that she smiled. She released my wrist and snaked her fingers beneath the hem of my shirt, her touch a blaze on my skin. Much as I wanted to take her, to fuck her senseless, I had things to think about. Our future was under threat—my existence to be snuffed out, if rumours were to be believed—and those of The Coterie remaining after my death would be ruled by those intent on ruining everything we had worked towards. It did not matter that at the present time mortals had a warped view of us—vampires who roamed the earth biting and turning for fun. Beings to be feared.

  If those challenging me had their way, we would become just that.

  Not we. I would be gone.

  “You would not.” Anstace lifted her head and rested a finger beneath my chin. She turned my face so I looked at her. Her eyes pooled with tears that did not fall. She was too hardy for such a display of emotion when she wanted to show her support, her belief in me. “You said yourself that Lincoln will come around to our way of thinking. You said he is the one to help you, and I believe that. Having watched him over the years…he has the makings of a fine defiler.”

  I widened my eyes at her use of that word. She grinned, knowing I’d taken it in jest. Anstace loved to rile me with regard to the myths. They irritated me beyond measure. They were not who we were, and I wished I could prove that. The one she used too often—oh my, I can’t seem to see my reflection in the mirror anymore—irked me the most. She could see herself. Yet I could not stay annoyed with her for long. She owned me, body and soul, and I would do anything for her.

  “Including abandoning The Coterie?” she asked.

  “If I had to.”

  I thought of Lincoln, a man I had turned when he was but a youth. He had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I often wondered about fate and whether there was such a thing. Perhaps he was meant to be where we met.

  Telling myself that was easier than dealing with the guilt of having turned an innocent man.

  Lincoln had grown steadily, using his powers only when necessary, choosing to live life much like a mortal, wanting nothing to do with The Coterie. He had been averse to our ways, thinking us bad, the same as a human would. If he had listened, perhaps he would have seen things differently. But he was stubborn, in denial, and I had let him go his own way, knowing time would change his perspective.

  “He has an Achilles’ heel,” I said, stroking Anstace’s cheek.

  “Emily.”

  “Yes, Emily. Though…” Yes, I did believe having the young female vampire in his life might make Lincoln someone to be feared. Someone who would be of good use to our overall plan. If Emily’s safety was threatened, I knew Lincoln would do anything to protect her. Even becoming part of The Coterie, as was his destiny. Much as he tried to live as a human, sequestered in that lighthouse on Maine’s remote, rocky coast, his vampire traits had manifested. He’d struggled to ignore them, but when he had rescued Emily, he had recognised his attendant and turned her. Given another few years, he would transform completely. He couldn’t evade his fate. Much like mortals aged. One could not fight it and win.

  “You see, darling?” Anstace leant forward and brushed her lips over mine. “Things will work out just fine.”

  “Broughton… That wee bastard has become a problem.” I looked into her eyes, almost forgetting myself in their depths. God, she had a way about her. I stood to lose everything if I allowed myself to think only of her.

  Her secretive smile did nothing to hide the fact she was aware of my thoughts, of how I felt about her. Of how she had the ability to control me if I would allow it.

  “Oh, him!” she huffed, clearly unconcerned. “He’s just a childish boy—in our terms, that is. He may be over a century old, but he’s never matured. I disliked him from the very first. Brash little shit.”

  I chuckled at how Anstace always adapted so well to the new ways of using language, then grew sober again. “But he has plans for Lincoln.” I sighed once more, frustrated that I had promised never to interfere in Lincoln’s life unless I really had to. Unless he could not cope alone.

  “Then Lincoln will just have to learn to deal with whatever comes his way. If you want him to help you with bigger things…”

  “Yes, you are right. I know that. He needs experience before he can commit to us.”

  I cleared my throat, pushing thoughts of our bleak future from my mind. We had a while yet before I had to act. Amrit was trying to find the location of a certain knife that he should not get his grubby paws on, and I could not do anything until he played his final hand.

  Amrit, the so-called Nectar of Immortals.

  Oh, I knew what he intended to do and how he would do it—my loyal brood had seen to that, bringing information my way, and my own mind-probes had secured much valuable information—but I did not know who he was. He had learnt the art of shrouding himself to such a degree that only whispers of what he was about had filtered through to those in the cause. No one seemed to know him at all.

  “Fuck me,” I said, pulling Anstace onto my lap so she straddled me. “Make me forget everything but you.”

  A languid smile transformed her lips, and her irises became full amber circles. “Gladly, darling. I thought you’d never ask.”

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  About the Author

  Chris Lange is a sensual romance author, and a dreamer. She daydreams, nightdreams, Mondaydreams, weekenddreams, springdreams, winterdreams. Then, she writes. Welcome to her fantasy world.

  Email: mailto:chrislange25@yahoo.com

  Chris loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

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