He came to her in a dream. He foretold to her of a husband. She would travel over a thousand years back through time to be claimed by a notorious Viking warrior. The warrior would give her pleasure she'd never dreamed possible. He would claim her. Brand her. Possess her. She could never leave him... But then again, whoever said she wanted to?
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1 . Huge disappointment!
Posted February 12, 2010 by turcato , conroeTopic sounded interesting, title and pic WAS awesome however the content was BORING!
Not worth my ebook investment!
November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from God of Fire by Jaid Black
Dara Sabine bolted upright in bed, her eyes glazed over with unquenched lust. Her silk nightgown was drenched in her own sweat, beads of perspiration covering her body like a wet second skin. She glanced around her bedroom, then released a sigh of near disappointment.
She had been dreaming. It was just a dream.
Realizing it would be a long while before she could fall back to sleep, she threw the goose down covers off of her legs and planted her feet on the cold oak floor. Pulling on a robe, she padded downstairs in her slippers.
Ten minutes later, Dara sat before her television set eating a bowl of cornflakes with one hand and channel surfing via the remote with the other. She switched off the TV after scanning all of the channels, dismayed that nothing good was on the tube at four o'clock in the morning.
Dara heaved a dramatic sigh as she drew her spoon up to her mouth and plunged a huge bite of cereal between her lips. Since there was little else to do at four a.m., her mind drifted back to the dream that had awakened her so abruptly this morning. She grinned, thinking to herself how idiotic she'd been to get worked up over a silly dream about a fabled Norse god.
He had called himself Loki, the trickster god, the god of fire.
Devastatingly handsome, this mischief-maker had been. Tall and well muscled, as sexy as sin itself, and a very good kisser. He was the god of fire all right, she admitted wryly. She had felt his fire right between her thighs.
Loki threw her down onto the bed and made love to her with his mouth, his tongue flicking over her clit in rapid darts. When Dara had almost reached climax, she begged him to fill her up, to thrust inside of her. Loki licked her nipples devilishly then smiled down to her. "I cannot, lovely Dara, though I wish I could."
"You are to wed another."
"You mean Paul?"
The trickster god laughed uproariously, as if she'd just told the joke of a lifetime. "Nay, love. You will not wed with Paul. You will be given to a real man, to a warrior some might say can rival even me."
"No one can rival you," she purred as she reached up and licked his cheek.
Loki basked in the feel of her mortal tongue against his immortal skin, relishing the silk of her beneath him. He trailed his kisses down her body, ending at the wet place between her thighs. He splayed her legs wide and groaned, coveting what would never be his.
Loki took her into his mouth, teasing her clit with his tongue and lips. He brought her to the brink of completion once more, then stopped.
Dara ran her hands through his hair and groaned with need. "Please don't stop again."
"You will know pleasure at the hands of your husband and no other. The course has been set."
"I want you to be my first. You will bring me more completion than Paul could ever hope to."
Loki grinned. "I told you, you will not wed with Paul."
"You will wed a warrior."
Dara threw her head back and laughed. "A warrior, eh? Too bad there haven't been any around in...oh...I don't know...hundreds of years?" She reached out and brushed her fingers through Loki's mane of hair again. "Please take me," she whispered thickly.
Loki lowered his head, drew her clit between his teeth, and sucked amorously. When Dara began to thrash around on the bed in her passion, he stopped, again not bringing her to completion. He looked up at her and grinned. "Warriors do not exist in your time, but they exist in mine. 'Tis my time to which you will come."
"Aye. When people still believed. When the gods of Valhalla still ruled."
"You can rule me." She pushed him from between her thighs, sat up on her knees, and drew his hard shaft into her hands.
Loki sucked in his breath as the mortal woman stroked him back and forth. Her caress could only have been borne of him--fire.
He removed Dara's hands from his erection and pushed her back down onto the bed. "Give yourself to your husband." He sighed and shook his head. "I want the mortal Ragnar to win."
Dara knit her eyebrows together, shaking her head ever so slowly. "I do not understand."
"Don't try. I have already said too much."
"Nay, love. You cannot know me. Your husband will come for you on the morrow and take you to his bed. Make haste and enjoy the journey. You will know much happiness do you submit to him."
And then the god of fire shape-shifted, evolving into a dragon before her very eyes. "Loki?" she asked breathlessly, somewhat frightened.
He ignored her fear, boring her with his heated gaze. "Lest you believe this a dream, feel my mark upon you." The dragon breathed out fire, singing her ankle with flames that branded her, yet caused no pain.
And then he was gone.
Dara gazed down at her foot and smiled. Upon her ankle was a tiny and perfect image of Loki as the dragon.
Dara sat on the couch frowning, knowing full well why she'd had such an erotic dream to begin with. It was because she didn't love Paul. She was going to marry a man who brought out none of her passion and her ever-efficient subconscious was merely trying to point out as much.
She set down her bowl of half-eaten cornflakes and sighed. Passion or not, she would become Paul's wife.
But the passion, the ache...good god! Was it possible for a real man to make her feel the way her dream lover had? She grimaced, realizing that the man she was about to marry never would.
Dara shook her head, clearing it of the last remnants of her dream. There was no way in heaven, hell, or Valhalla that she was going to stop the wedding now. She'd be insane to do so. The man was as rich as Midas and as powerfully connected as Napoleon.
She sighed dejectedly as she picked up the remote and switched the TV back on. This was no time for her subconscious to kick into overdrive. "Hell," she muttered to herself, "at least The Galloping Gourmet is on now."
* * * * *
After lunch, Dara strolled toward the bank of the Cuyahoga River telling herself that she felt better than she had in years. She all but skipped down the leafy path of the lush forest nestled deep into the gorge, doggedly convinced she had done the right thing. She was going to marry Paul. Yeppers. She was sure it was the way to go.
Paul D'Abois was wealthy and sophisticated, everything Dara's doting mother had ever wanted for her in a husband. He had his own lucrative engineering firm, several advanced degrees, a summer home in the Hamptons, and a yacht most women would kill to call their own.
Dara snorted, effectively dismissing her misgivings as trivial. So what if Paul was a little boring? Who should care that he was a proverbial wuss among men? So what if he spent more time preening in front of a mirror than she did? Dara Sabine was going to be rich! Loki be damned!
She sank down to the ground a moment later, the weight of her weariness getting to her. She shook her head and sighed, not wanting to contemplate the matter further. She had given up an entire two years of her twenty-six year old life in pursuit of making her mother's dreams for her a reality. She would not, under any circumstances, question the value of the prize she had finally claimed as her own. Paul D'Abois would become her husband.
An hour later, Dara lay by the riverbed as naked as a jaybird, enjoying the feel of the suns rays beating down upon her. It was her own privately held land, so why not? It's not like anyone would ever see her.
She smiled as she closed her eyes and the seconds turned into minutes. Her sun-kissed skin grew more golden as the minutes ticked by, drawing out the color of her tawny-gold eyes and golden, sun-streaked hair rather than diminishing it.
Dara told herself over and over again how elated she was at the prospect of her impending nuptials, of how perfect she would be in the role of the Mrs. Paul D'Abois.
And then she gave up with a sigh.
Who was she kidding?
She didn't love Paul and it wasn't fair to use him to achieve her mother's goals. Hell, they weren't even her own goals. They were the desires and dreams of a woman long dead. A woman who had known far too much heartbreak and poverty in her own short lifetime.
Dara knew what she had to do. Her dream lover Loki had been right. She had to end this farce of an engagement once and for all. Paul wouldn't be devastated, thank god. He was far too rich and had too many willing women surrounding him, ready to jump in and take her place at first opportunity.
Besides, Dara could take care of herself. She didn't need a man to do that for her. She'd worked herself up from nothing to gain scholarship into Harvard. She'd plowed through her courses and bulldozed her way into the halls of Yale graduate school. She was a self-sufficient, modern woman. Not at all the sort to entertain the notion of marrying a man because he held clout.
And money. Yes siree, there were quite a few buckaroos the wuss boy she was giving up could call his own.
Dara resigned herself to the inevitable, knowing that when she rose from the riverbank she would do the right thing and call off the engagement. Paul would never make her feel the way that Loki had. The closest she would get to climaxing in Paul's bed would be arguing with him over the significance of Gaugin's contributions to Impressionism while watching the History Channel.
Okay, okay, she was definitely going to dump Paul. But before dealing with that unpleasant business, she would allow herself to luxuriate in the sun's heat just a few minutes longer. She arched her back, a feeling of pleasure cascading throughout her body as the rays of the hot sun reached down and caressed her nipples, elongating them into tight peaks.
Loki was right. She could find herself a warrior among men.
And then she fell asleep, enjoying every moment of nature's erotic kiss..