Here’s an excerpt from Sex Symbol by Tracey H. Kitts, available now at Ellora’s Cave.
The room was lit by candles. There was one small table and a few shelves in one corner of the room. A shelf of some sort blocked my view, but when I stepped around it I saw where the sound had come from. Eramus was chained to the wall. One arm was locked above his head and his feet were shackled where he stood. I ran to him.
“Eramus, who did this to you?”
I started to look around for a key, but he stopped me, putting his free hand on my shoulder.
I stood there for a moment and just stared at him.
“I don’t understand. Why would you do this to yourself? How do you expect to ever get free?”
“The shackles are controlled by a machine. In twelve hours, it will release me.”
“Why? What happens for the next twelve hours?”
The look on his face was pained and though I made a move toward him he turned his face away, stopping me once again.
“The full moon,” he answered.
It took me a minute to find my voice. “Eramus, a wolf chased me he—”
“I don’t know who’s doing this,” he said. “But if I am to have the strength to fight him, I have to stop suppressing what I have become. I thought that I could pretend to be a man in order to…in order to love you.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I ignored them. “If you’re not a man, then what are you?”
The pain in his voice was like nothing I had ever heard. And all the sadness in the world was in the eyes that looked back at me as they slowly turned to amber. I understood what he was trying to say and it made no difference to me. I touched his face and as his fangs grew he started to cry.
“Get out of here,” he said.
He was still human to all appearances except for the short fangs and amber eyes. He looked like something wild and a passion stirred in me such as I have never felt before. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and when I placed my hand against his chest it seemed to me that his flesh burned.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he pleaded.
When he looked at me I felt a flame ignite in my soul like hellfire. Anything I felt before was in comparison to a match. The tortured look in his eyes broke my heart in two. I didn’t think it could ever be repaired, but he was surely welcome to both pieces.
I kissed him and my heart leapt. It danced against my ribs to a beat all its own and Eramus trembled at my touch. Sweat shown on his forehead like a fine mist and as I trailed my hand down his face I could feel his stubble already starting to grow.
A low growl escaped his throat as he said, “You should be running.”
“Didn’t you know? Beauty is incomplete without the Beast.”
I didn’t call myself beautiful because of my own opinion, but because he always said that I was. It may seem ridiculous, but I was not afraid. Not just because he was chained, but because whatever he became, he was still my Eramus underneath. And I was completely and irreversibly in love with him.
Our lips met once more and I pulled him as close as his chains would allow.
“We don’t have much time,” he whispered. “Soon, I won’t be able to control it.”
“What will happen when you turn?”
“I don’t know, this will be the first time I haven’t suppressed the transformation for a while now. I’m afraid that holding the Beast back has only made him stronger.”
I ran my hand down his chest and he winced as if in pain. When I reached the top of his pants I understood what sort of pain he felt. I unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “This is dangerous, I might—”
But I cut off his next words with a kiss as I ran my hands down his pants. I held him in my hand and felt him grow hard in an instant. No coaxing or foreplay, just a growl as he forced me to loosen my grip by his sheer size.
I took a step back to undress and was devoured in sections by his hungry eyes. My wet shirt peeled from my body with a slippery sliding noise that excited me. It flopped to the ground in a wet heap and I moved to my pants. First I unbuttoned them and Eramus licked his lips. I had known from the first time he looked at me that he wanted to eat me. And now I knew by the way his amber eyes flashed, exactly what was on his mind.
I slid my pants down just enough that my tattoo became visible and he paused, staring intently at the markings on my skin.
“You like roses, don’t you?”
He growled again and the hairs on my arms stood on end.
“It is symbolic.” But he didn’t offer further explanation at the moment.
Just a short while ago I would have been upset at the very idea of being close to a werewolf, but not so anymore. I peeled off my remaining clothing and tossed it aside in a sodden heap. I could feel my hair, plastered to my shoulders and back and as I tossed my head back I liked the way the wet locks smacked against my skin.
He looked like a feral Adonis. Sweat glistened on his skin in the candlelight, reflecting every curve and hollow of his body the way only an artist could ever recreate. My words pale. Images came to mind, his hands on my body, his lips roaming up and over my skin. And the hunger burned. My need for him was like a living thing, consuming me from inside out. The only way to calm this demon was a sacrifice of flesh.
To purchase your copy: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8698-sex-symbol.aspx
Tracey H. Kitts
Grab life by the fangs