Heat Wave by Taryn Kincaid
A 1Night Stand story
Paranormal Erotic Romance
Sent into the human realm to retrieve prodigal princess, Zena Night, Bhyrne Raines is shocked and unprepared for his carnal reaction to the sexy succubus. In service to the succubus queen, the rugged enforcer must stifle the instant passion exploding within him. Fulfilling his royal duty doesn’t allow for quickie dalliances. His biological clock is ticking, and he begins to enter breedspawn, an intense and unstoppable frenzy of mating all fire-demon males must endure. But the more he wants to avoid Zena, the more he’s drawn to her.
Reluctant to give up her carefree life of partying among the mortals when the hot-as-sin Bhyrne comes to fetch her for the queen, Zena uses her succubus wiles to entice him, or at least delay the inevitable trip to the royal court. Once in the demon stronghold, hidden deep within the Catskill mountains, she learns the reason for the summons: she must choose a consort within two days.
Zena needs a mate. Bhyrne needs to mate.
With time running out for both of them, they each turn to 1Night Stand. With time running out, can Madame Eve come to the rescue?
The first wave of heat smacked her the second she stepped into the corridor outside her suite. And not just the brutal temperature. Erotic energy filled the hallway, the carnal vibes nearly visible. The instant need for sex overpowered her, coiling quick and forceful to the dark places of her body. She went limper than overcooked pho. And damp. So wet, she wriggled.
A deep, masculine howl of hunger accompanied the second wave, unerringly resonating through her, impacting her erogenous zones like a heat-seeking missile. With an answering groan, she leaned against a credenza in the hallway to steady her wobbly legs. Gripping the edge of the wood with white knuckles, she nearly knocked over an antique vase filled with roses. But she didn’t spare a second to ponder the incongruity of flowers in Duyvil Tand. Dear Goddess. The urgency of that sound ricocheting off the walls caused her muscles to clench and contract, tensing, readying for orgasm. The moisture between her legs flowed like the mighty Mississippi.
Another fierce wave clobbered her, sending her reeling to the floor.
What is this?
Bhyrne’s voice infused the desperate roar echoing off the stone. Was this punishment for his defiance, perhaps? No, his cries were more intense than the pain of physical torture, or tearing flesh and breaking bone. The horrendous sounds screamed of sexual need. Without question. Had they given him some sort of drug…?
Then she knew. He’d gone into full-blown breedspawn. She had little experience with demon males in their time, the mating dance that seized them and shook their raw instincts, snared them in the most primitive and basic of masculine drives, the compulsion to empty their fertile seed in a receptive female. But she’d heard the rumors. She recalled the way the cool enforcer had sweated, his inability to meet her gaze straight on while they visited Max and Dagney in Sleepy Hollow, the possessiveness that had him defying Queen Velda in the throne room. Rebellion unheard of for a guardsman. For an enforcer. One of the queen’s own.
She recalled Max’s words on the phone—if you don’t think he’s the one, you’d better decide that pretty fuckin’ quick. And get the hell away from him if it’s a no-go.
Unholy hell.
She had to respond to his call to rut. Goddess knew she wanted him. Had wanted him from the moment he’d appeared behind her in the club corridor. She’d never been more excited, more raw and aroused. And she’d been with plenty of partners. But this was different. This wasn’t just a fun tumble, a tangle of sheets, a succubus toying with a mortal. This was a fire-sex demon in heat. And she needed a consort. There could be consequences.
This…might be the rest of our lives.
And Bhyrne was in no shape to make that call. In his current condition, he’d fuck a dish of soap sludge.
She crawled down the hallway inch by inch, nearly crippled with lust. When she stopped outside his door, his mating scent assaulted her nose like a potent hit of cocaine, suffusing her, getting into her skin, her blood. Dearest Goddess. She’d never smelled anything like the sexual lures he emitted. Sex. Dark spices. Sex. A hint of sandalwood. Sex. Musk. Sex. Tantalizing male demon. Sex. A mixture of devilish temptation that had her name stamped all over it. Sex. A passport to pleasure. Sex. Like a pounding drumbeat in her brain. In her body. In her vajayjay—already drenching wet, but still on fire.
Befuddled, her head spinning, she struggled to rise, then fumbled with the security code Max had supplied. When she managed to open the door at last, another wave bombarded her, sending her to her knees again, her core more aflame, her fiery need painful.
The raging urge for sex—for sex with Bhyrne—overwhelmed her. Soon she’d need release as much as he did. Maybe more. The cocktail of pheromones and testosterone intoxicated her.
A hungry moan filled the bedroom, went on and on and on, coming from her, she realized, when another deep howl answered, drowning her out. Hot-buttered stud muffins. Frickin’ drunk on him and she hadn’t even seen him yet.
“Bhyrne?” she whispered into the dark room.
“Here.” A voice so hoarse and raw she barely recognized it. “Fuck.”
A shiver zipped up her spine, stirring the hair on the back of her neck. Electric current pinged from her breasts to her clit and back again. Her nipples hardened. “Do you need water?” She glanced around, willing her eyes to adjust to the gloom.
“You.”
Reluctant to give up her carefree life of partying among the mortals when the hot-as-sin Bhyrne comes to fetch her for the queen, Zena uses her succubus wiles to entice him, or at least delay the inevitable trip to the royal court. Once in the demon stronghold, hidden deep within the Catskill mountains, she learns the reason for the summons: she must choose a consort within two days.
Zena needs a mate. Bhyrne needs to mate.
With time running out for both of them, they each turn to 1Night Stand. With time running out, can Madame Eve come to the rescue?
AVAILABLE FROM:
Enjoy An Excerpt From HEAT WAVE:
A deep, masculine howl of hunger accompanied the second wave, unerringly resonating through her, impacting her erogenous zones like a heat-seeking missile. With an answering groan, she leaned against a credenza in the hallway to steady her wobbly legs. Gripping the edge of the wood with white knuckles, she nearly knocked over an antique vase filled with roses. But she didn’t spare a second to ponder the incongruity of flowers in Duyvil Tand. Dear Goddess. The urgency of that sound ricocheting off the walls caused her muscles to clench and contract, tensing, readying for orgasm. The moisture between her legs flowed like the mighty Mississippi.
Another fierce wave clobbered her, sending her reeling to the floor.
What is this?
Bhyrne’s voice infused the desperate roar echoing off the stone. Was this punishment for his defiance, perhaps? No, his cries were more intense than the pain of physical torture, or tearing flesh and breaking bone. The horrendous sounds screamed of sexual need. Without question. Had they given him some sort of drug…?
Then she knew. He’d gone into full-blown breedspawn. She had little experience with demon males in their time, the mating dance that seized them and shook their raw instincts, snared them in the most primitive and basic of masculine drives, the compulsion to empty their fertile seed in a receptive female. But she’d heard the rumors. She recalled the way the cool enforcer had sweated, his inability to meet her gaze straight on while they visited Max and Dagney in Sleepy Hollow, the possessiveness that had him defying Queen Velda in the throne room. Rebellion unheard of for a guardsman. For an enforcer. One of the queen’s own.
She recalled Max’s words on the phone—if you don’t think he’s the one, you’d better decide that pretty fuckin’ quick. And get the hell away from him if it’s a no-go.
Unholy hell.
She had to respond to his call to rut. Goddess knew she wanted him. Had wanted him from the moment he’d appeared behind her in the club corridor. She’d never been more excited, more raw and aroused. And she’d been with plenty of partners. But this was different. This wasn’t just a fun tumble, a tangle of sheets, a succubus toying with a mortal. This was a fire-sex demon in heat. And she needed a consort. There could be consequences.
This…might be the rest of our lives.
And Bhyrne was in no shape to make that call. In his current condition, he’d fuck a dish of soap sludge.
She crawled down the hallway inch by inch, nearly crippled with lust. When she stopped outside his door, his mating scent assaulted her nose like a potent hit of cocaine, suffusing her, getting into her skin, her blood. Dearest Goddess. She’d never smelled anything like the sexual lures he emitted. Sex. Dark spices. Sex. A hint of sandalwood. Sex. Musk. Sex. Tantalizing male demon. Sex. A mixture of devilish temptation that had her name stamped all over it. Sex. A passport to pleasure. Sex. Like a pounding drumbeat in her brain. In her body. In her vajayjay—already drenching wet, but still on fire.
Befuddled, her head spinning, she struggled to rise, then fumbled with the security code Max had supplied. When she managed to open the door at last, another wave bombarded her, sending her to her knees again, her core more aflame, her fiery need painful.
The raging urge for sex—for sex with Bhyrne—overwhelmed her. Soon she’d need release as much as he did. Maybe more. The cocktail of pheromones and testosterone intoxicated her.
A hungry moan filled the bedroom, went on and on and on, coming from her, she realized, when another deep howl answered, drowning her out. Hot-buttered stud muffins. Frickin’ drunk on him and she hadn’t even seen him yet.
“Bhyrne?” she whispered into the dark room.
“Here.” A voice so hoarse and raw she barely recognized it. “Fuck.”
A shiver zipped up her spine, stirring the hair on the back of her neck. Electric current pinged from her breasts to her clit and back again. Her nipples hardened. “Do you need water?” She glanced around, willing her eyes to adjust to the gloom.
“You.”
About the Author:
Taryn Kincaid is a multi-published author of sensual and erotic romance. Her books are published by Decadent Publishing, Carina Press and The Wild Rose Press.
Her SLEEPY HOLLOW series of erotic paranormal 1Night Stand stories for Decadent includes LIGHTNING, THUNDER, FROST and HEAT WAVE, and has been collected, along with BLIZZARD, a short erotic contemporary for Decadent's The Edge line, in the SLEEPY HOLLOW anthology. SLEEPY HOLLOW is now available in paperback and digital formats.
A former award-winning newspaper reporter and columnist, Taryn currently slaves away in the booby-trapped field of law, escaping into the delicious world of romance every chance she gets.
She lives in the historical Hudson River valley region outside of New York City, where the shopping is fabulous, the scenery is awesome, and things can very often be relied upon to go bump in the night.
Taryn loves to hear from you! Find her on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, Pinterest, her Facebook Author Page, Sleepy Hollow Snippets and her author page at Amazon.com.
2 comments:
Thanks for hosting, Paisley!
You're most welcome, Taryn! Gotta love a good HEAT WAVE! XX
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