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“…STONE’S EMBRACE is a wonderfully descriptive story…The mix of Greek mythology with Christian elements is intriguing and adds to the subtle layering of eroticism and exoticism…this story is fantastic and a super-hot read!” ~5 Angels, Fallen Angels Reviews“…The sex in the book was off the charts hot!…It was a wonderfully different story with a strong characters and a fun plot that left this reviewer breathless!” ~5 Stars, Just Erotic Romances
Lust trapped them in darkness…only love can free them…
Petra Pedersen has lived as a recluse all her life thanks to a genetic double whammy—a strange deformity and a shameful power inherited from the father she will never know. The power to incite lust in men and women with just a touch.
Exploring the garden of the mansion she’s just inherited, she comes across a fascinating stone gargoyle whose raw, passionate expression draws her to caress its broad chest. Her imagination follows her fluttering fingers. As she closes her eyes and gives herself up to the arousal, something shifts beneath her touch.
Long ago, failure to stop a demon battle trapped Octavius in a prison of stone. Freed by the woman’s incendiary touch, he doesn’t hesitate to unleash his pent-up rage and desire in a blistering fury. Yet once the haze of lust clears, he discovers he isn’t really free after all.
They are both trapped in another realm where he must choose between his last chance for redemption or returning Petra home…
Warning: Sex with inanimate objects, lusty m/m/f ménages with gods…it’s all good when the reward is freedom.
Octavius rammed his shoulder against the heavy oak door. The lock and hinges gave and the door crashed backward with a satisfying thud, raising dust that sifted through the air like silver-gilt fireflies in the moonlight. Wary, he stepped across the threshold. Inside, the house was dark, the air thick—too heavy to be natural.
He knew, without reeling in the psychic tether that kept him chained to the Grigori, that Bacclum was here. That the bastard had found the demon. He prayed he wasn’t too late to save Bacclum from his own insatiable lust for power. The consequences of his failure would mean his own end.
He should have known that Bacclum planned mischief that night. The mixed-blood angel had been too eager to see Octavius take a rare walk among humans, encouraging him to attend a masked ball at a wealthy residence inside the French Quarter.
While Octavius had enjoyed the rare opportunity to mingle among sweet-smelling women, secretly laughing as he pretended a lever inside his vest controlled the movement of his wings and thrilling to the many strokes of soft hands along his ribbed folds, Bacclum had snuck away. But not before he’d assured himself that his watcher’s vigilance had been dulled by the herbs stirred into his drink. If Octavius hadn’t noted the uneasy glances of the sloe-eyed woman who’d gulled him, he might have drunk the full measure. As it was, his head still swam and his loins throbbed with unabated lust.
The sound of crashing furniture and the low rumble of a masculine voice drew him up the staircase and down a hallway toward the sliver of golden light, fanning outward from a partially opened doorway. Sliding his back close to the wall, he gently pushed open the door and peered around the corner into a room lined with shelves of books.
Bacclum’s dark head was bent toward his chest, his thighs braced around the demon, his hands wrapped around a straining throat.
I’m not too late, thank the gods. “Let go, Bacclum!” Octavius growled as he stalked toward the Grigori steadily strangling the demon he clasped. Read the rest of this entry »