Just got it last night from the owner/editorial director of Amber Quill Press -- my cover for The Claiming:
Meet Rhys Valorian, exiled vampire prince from the planet Nosfer. Rhys is in a bit of a bind, literally. You see, his ex-lover, Kassinda Marjani, is hauling him into the authorities on trumped-up bioweapons smuggling charges. She's desperate to free her brother from prison. But Rhys isn't too keen on taking his place. When they crashland on a barbaric planet where men show their love for their women by pleasuring them wherever and whenever they want, Rhys knows it's time to make his move and claim his woman.
Here's an unedited excerpt:
Rhys bit back a grin as her eyes flared with anger. She was sassy, his Kass. Always had been, even when everyone else around him was fawning over him with simpering and snivelings of ‘prince this’ and ‘prince that.’
An exiled royal-turned-smugger was no prince. Regardless of his birthright.
“Get. These. Off. Me.” She struggled in his grip, even going so far as to kick him on his boot-covered shin.
By the gods, she was entrancing. Strong, determined, sometimes even foolhardy. Her pulse beat rapidly at the base of her throat, enticing him with her heat, her very essence. While he had reversed the situation and now held her as his captive, he was like a fly in her web. If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him for dinner.
But what a way to go.
He remembered how she felt in his arms, underneath his body, wrapped around his cock. “Do you still make those little mewling noises when you come, ahya?” he asked, lust making his voice deep and raspy.
When she went to kick him again, he lifted her off the floor by her manacled wrists, dangling her so her face was level with his. When her knee lunged toward his groin, he blocked it with his thigh and then trapped her leg between his. “Uh-uh-uh,” he admonished, giving her a little shake.
He couldn’t hold back the grin as she sputtered and twisted in his grasp.
She was like a frightened kitten, all arched body and spitting fury. It made him want to stroke her into calmness. He sent a gentling thought her way and felt her stiffen against him.
“Don’t even try your damned Nosfer mojo on me,” she hissed, brown eyes glittering with anger. “I didn’t like it five years ago; I don’t like it now.”
“It frightened you five years ago, ahya,” he said, the hurt of her rejection flaring as hotly as if the rebuff had happened mere moments ago. “Why are you so afraid to share your mind with me?”
Renewing her struggles, she fought against him until she was panting heavily and sweat trickled the side of her face. “My mind is my own,” she gritted. With a small grunt, she tried to thwack him with the manacles.
He tightened his grip, knowing he had merely to wait her out. She would tire and have no choice but to give up this fight. She gave it her all, twisting in his arms, kicking out with her free leg.
The sight of her passionate anger ramped up his own arousal. His cock grew hot and heavy, throbbing with insistent intent behind the placket of his pants. He wanted to kiss the frustration and distrust off her face, smooth his thumbs over her stubborn chin and full, sensual lips.
With the mood she was in, though, she’d most likely bite him.
If there was going to be any biting being done, he’d be the one doing it. And it wouldn’t be in anger.
Copyright ©2006 Sherrill Quinn. All Rights Reserved.
Coming from Amber Quill Press in June!