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The Dark Lord - Love Bites

Come With Carys Series

Author(s): Carys Weldon

The Dark Lord is cursed by the four fates, nympho sprites that rule the world Ziadore--and all the world suffers from their game.
The Dark Lord has a thousand years to find his one true precious, the Queen of Pentacles, who is constantly recycled, reincarnation style, into different bodies. The thing is, they share dreams of a carnal nature, memories of their love before.
She cannot find satiation with other mortals, though she constantly seeks it. He, on the other hand, is doomed to vampirism-and sexual lust that can not find fruition with anyone but her. So, teasing, shared dreams are their only release.
If you like dark, twisted love, a little sexual tension building, and men with overwhelming obsessions… you'll absolutely drool over The Dark Lord.


Fayley took great care once she was pregnant. She listened to the witch solicitously, took her potions frequently. You see, Fayley had summoned the hag, too, on the same morn that Mogda did. Not long after, actually. Their meeting was much different, though, and representative of Fayley’s respect for others.
When the hag first appeared at Fayley’s request, the handmaiden let her in. She could have been killed for it, if Mogda had ever heard. The queen was supposed to receive no visitors. But witches cover their deeds with spells, you know. And those who believe, and serve, are never done wrong.
Fayley, dressed in a modest sheath with bell sleeves, gestured for her guest to sit. When the hag looked around, Fayley smiled and offered, “Please... this chair is most comfortable. Are you thirsty?”
Before the witch could nod, Fayley poured her a drink. Then she dropped to her knees in front of the guest, and asked, “May I wash your feet?”
It wasn’t a complaint against dirty, stinking feet, either. Fayley honored the hag for coming to her. The bone thrower let her do it, watching with squinted eyes the whole time, and occasionally clucking her tongue on the top of her palate, but she didn’t say a word. Not until Fayley got to the business.
“I need your help.”
“Aye. I expected as much.”
Fayley’s eyes filled with tears and she whispered, “I have no children. I am so lonely I could die.”
The witch sniffed and puckered her lips in thought. “I will read my bones for you.” But the bones carried bad news. Fayley was not meant to have children. The witch had lied to Mogda in hopes that he would foolishly preen like a peacock and never see his desire come to fruition. She wanted him to become a laughingstock.
But now, the witch had care. She wanted the queen to have her heart’s hope. Sniffing repeatedly, the hag read the bones again and again looking for anything that would offer a possibility.
Fayley, too, leaned over them, looking for the answer, hoping that the Fates had good news.
But the witch finally had to sit back and say, “I am sorry.”
Fayley blinked, “You are sorry? What do you mean?” Panic raced across her features.
A sudden thought occurred to the witch. She put a finger in the air. It was unclean, crooked, and scarred. Her beady eyes shot in opposite directions then twirled cross-eyed in their sockets. She went into a trance.
Fayley sat through the morning hours watching the hag, who did nothing. The handmaiden came and went. Brought food, took it away. Returned with a fresh pitcher and clean goblets. Fetched clean water and toweling for Fayley to wash with. Washed her fingers and face when Fayley, too, appeared to be stone.
The witch finally came out of her experience. She matter-of-factly stated, “We must do a ceremony.”

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ISBN (Print):
ISBN (Electronic): 978-1-60180-117-3
Genre: Gothic
Date Published: 11/12/2012
Publisher: Mojocastle Press

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