A Fear of Black Holes and a Brand New Vampire RH
Does anyone else here remember the Large Hadron Collider?
I recently discovered that there’s a bizarre cross-section of people who love alien eggplant and fear black holes (thanks to my SFR friends Ursa Dax and Stella Frost). I can vividly remember having a full-on meltdown back in the mid-2000s when they tested the LHC for the first time, thinking our planet was going to be devoured by a black hole. I mean, who doesn’t fear spaghettification?
So now I’m curious, and conducting an informal poll: Do people who love alien romance fear have an irrational fear of black holes? Let me know in the comments or via email!
In other news, I’ll be sending a formal poll out with the next few newsletters. I’m planning a Christmas short for newsletter subscribers and Facebook group members only, and YOU get to pick the highlighted couple (or group, if you want the crew from Celestial Sins or In Her Thrall)!
CLICK HERE to fill out the survey - it’s just two questions regarding which couple you want to see more of and which series you’re most excited to see continue!
In other news…
I stepped closer and slid my hand around the small of her back, splaying my fingers out. She inhaled sharply, but she made no move to pull away, leaning closer instead. Her free hand was suddenly on my chest, gripping the collar of my shirt, her long red nails hooked into the linen that lay open at my throat.
“This is most improper, Mr. Shelley,” she drawled, the mocking lilt clear in her tone as she tilted her head. Her lips hovered close to mine, close enough that I wished I could inhale that sweet scent of roses and liquor on her breath.
“Please, Miss Ivyshade,” I said. “Aren’t we beyond such formalities?”
“We could be,” she said, and her hand slid up to my throat, her nails sharp at my clavicle. “Is that what you came here for? What you want?”
“What I want,” I said, pulling her against me, “is you calling me Edward when you’re screaming my name tonight.”
She crushed her lips to mine with an animalistic growl, and I didn’t hesitate to thrust my tongue inside her mouth, pulling her as close as I could get her. My cock throbbed at the sensation of her in that slinky black dress, my hand wavering in its hold on the candle. I was quite literally playing with fire, and I knew that this kiss was dangerous in more ways than one.
But I couldn’t stop kissing her.
And she was forceful—far more forceful than I expected from a woman of her standing. Her grip tightened around my throat, and a moment later she was pressing me against the wall, hitching a leg around my waist. She rolled her hips and we groaned into each other’s mouths, desperate and ever so hungry, and in my mad rush to taste her I slid my tongue across her teeth.
I tasted copper.
Yes; I was bleeding from a small cut on my tongue, but Bianca didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, she kissed me harder, sucking hard on my tongue, moaning into the silence of the dark hallway like a predatory animal.
Then she abruptly pulled away, stumbling backward to the other side of the hall. I watched her as I gasped for breath, not even trying to hide my prominent arousal as she stared openly at it and licked the remaining blood from her lips.
If she was a vampire, she wouldn’t have been able to stop.
At least that’s what I told myself as she hurried down the hall and out of sight.