When Sean, a conservative psychology professor, is cornered one night by a very buff creature of the night, he does the first thing he can think of. Casts a spell. Not just any spell. A love spell. And it works.
Now the vampire, Thane, is head over heels for Sean and causing chaos in his life. Even worse, Sean's falling in love with him, too. But is it real or just the magic?
The witches are pissed Sean used coercive black magic. The vampires want Thane back. And Sean knows, if you love something, you've got to set it free. If it comes back, it's meant to be, right? The only problem is, the being he's setting free is a bloodthirsty vampire, and there's a lot more at stake than just matters of the heart.
Publisher's note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: m/m sexual practices.
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Loose Id, LLC
April 09, 2007
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Excerpt from Tongue-Tied by Emily Veinglory
So of course Sean took the vampire home.
His apartment didn't really have much space, not enough for a guest room, not even for a guest coffin. But there wasn't much else he could do because the vampire had to bide with him so long as the spell was in force -- and the moment Sean released him, the vampire's rage at being enthralled was likely to be murderous. The mysterious disease that caused the transformation seemed to drive the vampires to band together and fall under the influence of the most violent and paranoid of their number. Vampires were always trouble, and he wasn't sure how he was going to get rid of this one.
The vampire -- Thane -- strolled in and dropped his heavy leather jacket over the back of the couch. He surveyed the small space, every surface cluttered with papers, dirty dishes, and other ephemera, before turning his arresting gold-flecked brown eyes back on Sean with an ingratiating smile that looked very out of place on his handsome features.
"You realize you feel this way only because of a spell?" Sean said. A moment later he wished he hadn't; it wasn't really something he wanted the buff monster to have an epiphany about. It was widely rumored in the occult subculture that witches had created the vampire race twenty-odd years ago for some obscure reason that even the conspiracy nuts had trouble inventing. Even if this was true, Sean didn't know why it pissed the vamps off so much -- super-senses and strength and the theoretical possibility of immortality didn't seem like such a bad deal to him. If it was the impulse control problem that bothered them so much, their intermittent witch hunts seemed a peculiar sort of protest.
Thane shrugged blithely and continued to gaze at Sean with increasingly nuanced fascination. It was obvious that the binding didn't blunt his intellect even if it did enslave his emotions. Sean perched on his old armchair, and Thane lounged on the sofa opposite. It was like paying court to a tiger -- it isn't that tigers aren't beautiful, but would you ever want one in your living room? Sean looked the vampire up and down, chewing on his thumbnail.
On closer examination, there was a drawn look on Thane's face and a blend of attractions in his eyes. Sean had little doubt as to what that meant. He sighed. Having let Thane follow him home, he supposed it was also his responsibility to feed him.
"How much blood do you need?" Sean asked.
Thane seemed to take that as permission. "A small amount only," he said as he knelt before Sean. Reluctantly, Sean leaned forward, every muscle of his body tense. From this distance he could read the tiny lettering on the front of Thane's shirt: 'Vampires give killer hickeys'. Given how close you had to be to read it, it must be meant more as an advisory than a joke. It also suggested a flippancy on the matter that only the most merciless of his kind would display. Vampires had a lot of quirks, and total obedience to a clan leader was one of them. Given that their leaders leaned more towards Manson than Bambi, on the whole the results were unpleasant, to say the least.
"You have to do whatever I say," Sean said with a quavering voice that still failed to convey the depths of his anxiety. "So I command you to take no more than you need ..."
It was ironic really that in trying to avoid this situation, he was obliged to submit to it. The best he could hope for was that this way he would probably survive the indignity. Thane put one hand on Sean's thigh, firmly. Sean stiffened. A moment later, the touch of Thane's lips upon the skin of his neck was like ... well, there was nothing like it. It felt like a sting at first, and he flinched. Sean's flesh, gently pinioned by small, curved fangs, ached -- but then the ache began to change. His groin pulsed as pleasure diffused through him. He gasped and pushed Thane back, but clutched at him at the same time with curled, convulsed fingers.
Thane allowed himself to be repelled, although there was no doubt he had the strength to resist. As his fangs slid free, Sean suffered a strange sense of loss; a tremor shook his whole body. In his confusion, he could not even discern which emotion racked his body: fear? desire? One part of his body was anything but confused; Sean blushed to feel his cock grow hard and push up against his thigh.
"Is it always like that?" Sean asked.
"Always," Thane replied with an enigmatic smile. "Was it your first time?"