Hot Moon Rising series
|By: Eliza March | Other books by Eliza March |
Word Count: 58,856
Ménage and More: Erotic Fantasy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F, BDSM, shape-shifters
Fate sealed Rourke and Dane's destiny thirty years ago. Now Celeste, a fae shifter, understands why she's irresistibly drawn to both the Werewolf and the Demon Dragon Shifter. Surely with her succubus nature, she'll be capable of seducing the two alpha men, but will she be able to convince them that sharing her to fulfill the Prophecy would be better than the alternative: chaos, destruction, or death?
Why are the men's tastes--in everything from food to sex--changing? Maybe because one is the prince of the wolf pack, and the other is the leader of the Lore, a dreaded Demon Dragon shifter. They have one option--accept their destiny and complete the ménage bond or die.
A quick glance into the giant mirror just past the potted palms had her ready to run. Thank goodness, the hallway was empty. She turned her back and glanced over her shoulder at the unfamiliar image reflecting back at her in the ceiling-to-floor mirror. Her hair was a mess of uncontrolled platinum curls piled high on her head. Her legs seemed to travel up the length of her body with no end in sight. A hard tug on the short, black leather skirt accomplished nothing. The material barely covered her ass, and the five-inch stilettos made her look like three-quarters of her body was leg and the remainder boobs.
She tried shoving her cleavage back into the bodice of the tiny top with little luck. The effort sent the contents of her purse scattering to the floor, and then she tried to sidestep to the left of her rolling lip gloss. That had her wobbling. Maneuvering in the shoes could get dangerous. She tried squatting very carefully, looked up at her reflection, and caught sight of…Oops, better not do that.
She looked around. The hall was still empty. Footsteps echoed on the marble floor, the sound drawing closer. She kicked the purse into the plants so she could retrieve it with her backside hidden in the foliage. If the quick flash of her undies hadn’t been warning enough, the cool breeze on her behind reminded her she only wore a thong.
Trying to maintain her balance as she rose, she used slow, stilted movements, aimed to appear deliberate and cautious to anyone who might venture by. She tugged once more at her skirt as two men rounded the corner and approached.
She recognized them from the pictures the Council had given her when they’d assigned her to this mission. Her heart pounded when they smiled.
There was no way the men would know her, but she hoped they didn’t sense anything from the wild emotions bubbling inside her, rising so close to the surface a neophyte could read them.
At first, their interest appeared to be no more than typical male awareness as they walked past her, but then one of them paused and turned her way as if he’d recalled something. She froze in place, refusing to look up and start anything.
Keep going, she willed them.
She wasn’t ready to confront her obligation to the Council yet. She turned her glamour down to a mere pilot light and didn’t breathe. They kept moving toward the music, fading into the dark club, but the scent of aroused wolf lingered.
Whew, that was close.
Walking in the spindly shoes presented a problem of sorts, sitting in the skirt would be impossible, and dancing might be disastrous. Her aunt was determined to throw her to the wolves. Literally.
“Damn, Celia, you did this on purpose knowing how short this would be. Are you listening?”
No response whispered in her mind.
“I’m not even as tall as some of the other fae. This skirt wouldn’t cover Rachel’s…well, you know what.”
With the mixed crowd gathering in the club, there appeared to be plenty of opportunities to release her inner resources. Celeste had come to accept her place among the Lore. She just hadn’t expected to face it for the first time half-dressed.
In this outfit, she’d have to be careful, very careful. The vamps would drool over her long, exposed neck. The leopards, lions, and wolves would love all her exposed flesh. The short skirt and the skintight, beacon-red, come-and-get-me tank top revealed way too much.
She rechecked herself in the mirror and groaned. The thin spaghetti straps barely held the top up against her straining breasts. Her erect nipples poked through the material. There was no way she could appear in public, let alone in a place filled with aroused, hungry males of all sorts, in this getup.
She took another backward glance and shook her head. A wild curl escaped her wound-up tresses and gave her an idea. Before the approaching full moon set this month, instinct would drive her to her first sexual experience, ready and willing or not. All males would be wildly attracted to her nature as it grew stronger with each passing night. They couldn’t resist their attraction to her under normal conditions, and under the present circumstances, she’d likely get mauled.
More footsteps and loud laughing. She had to hurry.
She unpinned her hair and let it fall like a curtain of curling, pale waves draping her shoulders. It fell over her breasts, down her back to her hips, and beyond, concealing the faery wings lying flat against her shoulder blades like a colorful tattoo.
The hair would protect her like a veil.
If her true mate didn’t claim her soon…Well, she’d ascend without his help, but she’d be a danger to all other males until she garnered control over her demanding sexual nature.
For some reason, the Council believed this club and its clients with every imaginable sexual preference provided the answer to her dilemma. Yesterday, the Council had confirmed the rumors Celeste had heard over the years, the ones about the prince’s return and her role in the prophecy. Before this moment, she hadn’t been so sure they were right. Now, her physical reaction said otherwise.
Even if she hadn’t recognized the men from their photos, something deep inside her would have known them from their scent.
The music blared, and the low lights inside the bar flashed to the beat. She stepped to the doorway and smiled. Her succubus rose. She liked the music, the lights, and oh, how she loved the scent of males. A plethora of alpha males, Weres, fae, demons, and shifters of all sorts, a veritable feast for her feminine wiles.
They all turned their attention in her direction when she entered the club. Celeste pushed her succubus nature beneath her wolf and dimmed her fae glamour. Looking at the hungry expressions on the faces staring at her, she was certain one of these men would gladly volunteer to ease her needs if that became necessary. For now, she wondered if she could handle letting destiny decide her life-mate, especially after glancing around the bar and seeing all the delicious possibilities. Hell, she might technically be a virgin, but she’d always had a good imagination.
|By: Eliza March|
Erotic Fantasy, Ménage a Trois Romance, M/M/F, Shape-Shifters
Mackenzie's ménage fantasy comes to life when she's snowbound with Fantasy Lodge partners, Aaron and Trent. One golden, one surly, the alpha males vie for her attention.
For Mac, the strange sensations, the sexual need, and the awkwardness all make sense when she discovers she's a shape-shifter. Aaron and Trent supported each other through their first metamorphosis, and agree to guide Mac safely through hers.
But when they turn, Were males don't share. Mac must choose between them, or they'll fight to the death. Accepting Mac is meant for both of them, they have one other option. Aaron can submit sexually to Trent, become his submissive. Mac can help them through the sexual boundaries, but what will it do to the men's friendship? Or their ménage relationship?
"What if your ménage fantasy became possible? Two gorgeous hunks, one dark and surly, the other blond and bright, lived to please and sexually fulfill you? What if you burned with passion like a cat in heat and only these two alpha males could satisfy you? What if you found out they were shape-shifters and so were you?" ~ Eliza ~
Both men raised their brows at each other as if in challenge. Molten lava, yep, that’s the way she felt. Heat raced through her entire body and the heated pressure built.
All three of them laughed.
“How about a sleigh ride tonight?” Aaron asked.
Trent tossed a coin at Mac. “You flip. Winner sits with you, loser drives.” He winked at her and stopped her breath. “I promise to keep you very, very cozy.” His voice dropped an octave and her temperature rose.
Aaron nodded at Trent as he put the coffee down. “I saw her first. She was supposed to tell you.” He gave Mac a look that questioned her integrity, before he sat down next to her, staking his territory. “Besides, she’s off men. Right?”
“R-r-right.” She agreed half-heartedly, looking Trent up and down, and then checked out Aaron again before she finally muttered with a certain amount of doubt still resonating in her voice, “I-I guess.” She hoped there wasn’t drool dripping from the corners of her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to check. “Did I mention...I meant...emotional involvement?”
“Wait, wait a minute. What is that look you just gave each other? What exactly does that mean?” Mac the unflappable was suddenly confused. “I certainly don’t want to be the cause of two best friends, not to mention business partners, bloodying each others’ noses for the second time or...do you even know the count for how many times?”
“Oh, that?” Trent looked at Aaron. And they said in unison, “Don’t worry about that. We’re used to it. We heal fast.”
Mac spoke up first. “Okay, if you insist. What do you have in mind? I’m pretty limited right now.”
She watched both sets of eyebrows rise with interest and felt her insides go all soft and liquid. Her pulse raced out of control, and she warned herself to back down. It would be too bad if she ended up having to choose between them, because both of them enticed and aroused her in different ways. Both men elicited feelings from her she forgot existed. Since no one man could be all things to a woman, it would have been nice to get the scary, hard guy and the thoughtful, sensitive guy all-in-one gorgeous package. If that wasn’t possible, these two provided the best of both, and each was gorgeous in a different way too. Her mind wandered to places and possibilities she’d never considered before. Why not? It couldn’t hurt to wonder.
She knew her eyes lit up when they looked at her. “A real sleigh ride? Horse drawn sleigh, jingle bells?”
“Absolutely,” Aaron replied. Watching her giggle like a little kid, he nodded at Trent. “See, good idea.”
Trent frowned. “Yeah? And who’s driving?”
“Oh, it’ll have to be one of us. You,” Aaron offered.
“Me? Right. Why would it be me?” Trent put on his tough guy face.
“Because I thought of it. And you’re the better driver.”
“You drive just as well as I do. Don’t try to snow me. We’ll toss for it.”
Mac raised her hands. “Wait!” She had to smile. “Are you two always like this?”
“No, we’re usually worse.” They said it together, and the three of them laughed again.
Aaron put his hand on hers before she could move and met her gaze. She felt the connection as if he’d run his hands up her body and down again. “Whoo hoo, you two are good.” She couldn’t help but admitting to their effect on her.
They both grinned, and for the third time spoke as one. “You have no idea how good we can be.” This time no one laughed. The two men looked at each other and gave each other a conspiratorial grin.
“You’re going to have to toss that coin sooner or later. One of us is going to have to drive because the regular driver’s home sick,” Trent said.
“Well, we don’t have to do this then. I’m sure we can find something else to do.”
“Don’t worry. We promise not to start any physical fights—yet,” Aaron assured her. “So go ahead, make me happy, baby.”
Mac flipped the coin and asked Trent to call it in the air.
She was almost sorry until she saw his look of promise. “Don’t worry, I’ll get my turn with you later, when I dump the yokel here off the mountain.”
He grabbed Aaron in a neck lock and scrubbed his knuckles over his long blond hair, pushing him back toward the bar. He approached Mac and said, “Since I lost, I get to take you to your room.”
She started to say, “Oh.” Her mouth formed the word, and he put his finger to her lips.
Ohhh. She wanted to groan and lick it.
His dark eyes twinkled. “I’m still on break.” He glanced at Aaron and sneered before telling Mac, “Your room upstairs is ready. I checked before coming back down here to the lounge.”
Then he swept her up like she weighed nothing more than a rag doll and headed for the door. “I’ll return for your coffee and your book,” he whispered under his breath, his lips skimming against her neck, “later.”
“Oh, oh, this isn’t necessary. I’ll use the cane.” She held on, her arms wrapped around his neck. His body felt so good against hers, she prayed he’d resist. She decided not to protest anymore in case he took her at her word and put her down.