Zane’s Redemption (37 page)

Slowly, he stroked his hand over the head cover, but he was too choked up to say a single word. He was free now, free to love and to believe. His faith in the good was restored, because even from evil, something good could emerge. Or some
one
good.

“Let’s get ready. We don’t want to keep Samson and the others waiting.” Portia caressed his cheek.

“They can’t start without me,” Zane murmured and pulled her against him. “And I have something important to do first.”

“What’s that?” she asked, but the excited flicker in her eyes told him she already knew.

“I have to thank my wife for saving me.”

“But you were the one who saved me,” she protested.

He moved his head from side to side. “No, baby girl, without you, I’d still be lost.”

THE END

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About Buchenwald

Buchenwald was one of the largest Nazi concentration camps in Germany. It was established in July 1937 and liberated by Patton’s army in April 1945. During most of this time, only male prisoners occupied the camp. Few female prisoners were at the camp in the early years, and those brought in were forced to work in the camp’s brothel. The majority of female prisoners arrived at the camp during 1944 and 1945.

Dr. Franz Müller is a figment of my imagination, however, doctors like him existed, and many of the experiments I described in Zane’s Redemption took place, in one form or another, if not at Buchenwald, then at camps like Auschwitz and Mauthausen. The most famous concentration camp doctor is Josef Mengele. After the war, he escaped to Brazil where he died in 1979, never having paid for his crimes.

Adolf Hitler and some of his followers did indeed believe in the occult and the supernatural. They searched, rather unsuccessfully, for the Holy Grail, hoping that once the artifact was in their possession, they would win the war.

The Holocaust is the darkest spot in modern German history. May it never be repeated.

Tina Folsom

Excerpt of Venice Vampyr #1

Isabella tore the wet clothes off the stranger’s body as her maid Elisabetta stood by wide-eyed. “Don’t just stand there, get a fire going,” she ordered.

“Signora, shouldn’t you let one of the footmen do this?”

Isabella shot her an annoyed look. “There’s no time for modesty.” Already she’d wasted precious minutes by ridding herself of her own wet clothes and drying off before stepping into a chemise and a dressing gown.

Adolfo had helped get the stranger up into her own rooms and placed him on the divan in front of the fireplace. She’d instructed him to keep quiet about the man. Having a stranger who was neither her husband nor a close relative staying with her would start all tongues in Venice wagging. Still, she knew it was only a matter of time before one of her staff gossiped and spread the scandalous news.

Despite the fact that she’d grieved for her husband for almost a year without taking a lover, without so much as allowing any man to even woo her in the most acceptable of manners, even she, a respectable widow, would not get away unscathed. If anyone found out a stranger was at her home—worse, in her own bedchamber—she would have to deal with the consequences. They would be harsh. Were they worth it? She hadn’t craved a man’s touch or attention, only her husband’s. Until now.

As she gazed upon the tall stranger whose clothes she peeled away layer by layer, she was grateful for the fact that her maid was busy with stoking the fire, for she didn’t want to be watched as she devoured the handsome man with her eyes.

Isabella allowed her hand to travel over his muscled chest and felt the raw power he represented. She wondered what kind of work this man did to have such strength in his body. But she knew he wasn’t a common laborer who worked in the warehouses or on the docks. His clothes were too well made and too expensive for that. He had to be a gentleman, a very well-built gentleman.

The moment she opened the flap on his breeches, easing open button after button, her own body heated, despite the chill she’d gotten in the freezing water. No man had ever been able to ignite that kind of response in her body, not even her late husband. They’d had a loving marriage, a very comfortable one, but she’d never lusted after him as she lusted after this stranger.

The fabric clung to him. She told herself that she needed to rip it off him so he wouldn’t die of a chill, but she knew better. The reason she tugged forcefully at his soggy clothes was so she could feast her eyes on what was beneath. She stripped him and dropped the wet garments onto the rug.

“Give me a bowl with warm water and a sponge.”

Behind her, Elisabetta shuffled closer. A gasp told her that her maid was looking at the naked man. Isabella shifted her body to obstruct her maid’s view. She didn’t want to share him. What a strange thought, she reflected. He wasn’t hers, yet she wanted to be the only one who saw him like this: vulnerable in his nudity.

“Signora! It is not decent!”

Isabella spun her head and snatched the bowl of water from Elisabetta’s hands. “Leave us. And not a word of this to anybody if you value your position here. Do you hear me?”

She nodded nervously and fled from the room. Isabella looked back at the beautiful naked man in front of her and took a deep breath. She should let one of her male servants do this, but she couldn’t bring herself to relinquish the intimate task.

With the sponge she bathed him, starting with his face. His dark hair, sleek and shiny as that of a raven, clung to his skin. As she gently washed his face, she wondered what kind of eyes lay behind those dark lashes. Were his eyes as dark as his hair? And would those lips smile at her if he knew what she was doing? She sighed. It had been so long since she’d touched another person. And to touch him felt more exciting than she could have imagined.

Isabella cleaned every inch of his body with warm water, then dried him with a large bathing sheet. And all the while she marveled at the beauty of his nude form. Strong, powerful thighs, a muscled chest covered in just a light dusting of dark hair, arms that looked strong. But what truly captured her attention was what lay at the juncture of his thighs.

In a nest of black, coarse curls, a large shaft rested against his sac, which looked as if it held two small eggs. She knew all about the male form—her husband had been a virile man and had taught her about the pleasures of the flesh, how to arouse him and how to pleasure him.

When she looked at this stranger now, she wanted to do just that: arouse him, pleasure him. Her hand stroked over his manhood, exploring his soft skin. How she’d missed touching a man. How she longed for the invasion that stretched her channel to its capacity. And this man would stretch her. Even in its relaxed state, he was of a formidable size. Once aroused, she knew he would be magnificent.

Suddenly, he shifted under her touch, startling her. Isabella instantly reached for the thick blanket and pulled it over him, covering his gorgeous body.

***

Somebody had made a mistake. For all intents and purposes, he should be in hell. But from what Raphael could see, he’d made it into heaven. He’d never expected there to be a heaven for vampires. But he wasn’t going to complain—no, he would not voice his concerns, even though he knew he didn’t deserve this.

The woman was clearly an angel. Her raven hair was loose, not held up high on her head with hundreds of pins as was the current fashion. And her clothing was indecent at best. She wore a long red dressing gown of rich brocade embroidered with golden roses. It was pulled tight at her waist, but the top gaped open as she leaned over him. He noticed the soft white fabric beneath clinging to her generous breasts.

No, she could not be a mortal. No woman in Venice would dress this scandalously in the presence of a man who was not her husband. It was proof positive that he was in heaven. Why he lay on a divan in a very feminine boudoir, he couldn’t yet explain, but he would get to the bottom of it. Nor could he explain why he felt cold. In fact, he positively shivered.

“I’ll have Elisabetta put more coal on the fire in a moment,” the angel said.

Coals in heaven? Raphael had thought they would have invented something a little more advanced. When she reached out and stroked his face, he realized that her skin was almost as cold as his. He certainly could do something about that.

“You’re awake. Finally. We were worried.” Her voice was like the most beautiful music he’d ever heard.

Worried that he wouldn’t make it to heaven? “My angel, you won’t have to worry any longer. I am here now.” He reached for her hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing her palm. The floral bouquet of her skin barely masked the heavy, rich scent of the blood in her veins. Despite the fact that he’d fed just before his death, he felt his fangs itch and his stomach clench with thirst for the angel’s blood.

The beauty pulled her hand from his grip. “Signore, there is no need for such familiarity.”

Raphael dropped his gaze to her neckline. “Familiarity? Maybe you mean formality?” He gave her a charming smile, the same kind of smile he used to lure his female victims to him. As he locked eyes with her and gazed into her green orbs, his hand went to her face. That was when he noticed the absence of clothes on his person. Why was he naked?

Surely, if he was without any clothes beneath the blanket and with the most gorgeous angel bending over him, there could only be one reason for it: he was here to make love to her. After all, this was heaven. “You’re right, my angel, why kiss your hand when your lips are so red and full?”

Raphael pulled her to him and brushed his lips against hers. A gasp was her answer. “Shh, my angel, let me love you.”

He captured the lovely creature’s mouth and snaked his free arm around her, pressing her against him. She seemed to want to protest, but he didn’t allow it. Instead, he greedily slipped his tongue between her parted lips and explored her.

Her tangy taste was enthralling, her lips soft and yielding. She tasted as enticing as her scent had hinted at. Yes, he would make love to her and take her intoxicating blood into him at the same time, gorge himself on her to celebrate his arrival in heaven.

His tongue coaxed her to respond to him, to dance with him in the intimate dance of two lovers. When he stroked against it for the first time, his cock pumped full with blood, readying itself for her. He pressed her body closer to make her aware of his urgent need.

When her hands pushed against his chest, he thought it was so she could free herself of her clothes, but she separated herself entirely from him instead and jumped up from the divan.

 She took a few steps back, her body trembling, but he doubted that it was from fear. Her look was scolding as she glared at him. “Signore! Is that the thanks I get for taking care of you after you nearly drowned? Being attacked by you in my own home?”

End of Excerpt

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Excerpt of A Scent of Greek (Out of Olympus #2)

“You may kiss the bride!”

Dionysus watched as his best friend, Triton, the god of seafarers and sailors, drew the lovely Sophia into his embrace and kissed her for longer than was decent at a wedding, particularly one at which half of Olympus was assembled. If he held her any tighter, her white flowing gown of pure silk would wrinkle beyond repair and be ruined forever, but neither of the two newlyweds seemed to care or even notice.

Even Dio was taken in by the picture: Triton’s blond hair and sun-kissed skin contrasted against Sophia’s long, dark hair, and while the two lovers looked like opposites, Dio knew they complemented each other perfectly.

More than one throat cleared before Triton—rather reluctantly—removed his lips from his wife’s and winked at Dio. It appeared that despite the fact that his once-philandering friend was now one hundred percent monogamous, he hadn’t lost his sense of humor and his passion.

At least Dionysus could be sure that his friend would be happy, despite the golden cage he’d just allowed the mortal priest to lock him into. By the looks of it, Triton didn’t mind one bit. Dio shook his head and glanced at the guests, who now filed past the couple one by one to express their well-wishes. As Best Man, he remained standing next to Triton, in equal parts happy and sad—happy to know that his friend had found true love, yet sad for himself to have lost his position as best friend. Sophia was Triton’s best friend now.

Sophia’s mansion had been decked out for the wedding; no expense had been spared. Not even on Olympus, could the event have been any more extravagant. The opulent house she’d inherited from her aunt and turned into a B&B to pay the inheritance taxes lent itself to affairs like this. The dining room, with its fourteen foot ceiling, had been cleared to accommodate the many guests present for the ceremony. The adjoining living area, which was as large as a ballroom, stood waiting with a most sumptuous buffet of the finest delicacies, and some even more enticing waitresses. Flowers adorned the entire house, inside and out, and the scent of roses and jasmine permeated throughout the building.