Original Sin Excerpt
Want a taste of Original Sin? Check out this excerpt!
Eleazar quickly scanned the crowd, a growl slowly building in his chest as the other men in the audience admired her.
Arching back, her head tipped and the hat fell. Long, black hair cascaded to the stage floor like a waterfall. He recognized her hair, knew it better than he had any right to. It smelled of mixed berries and was softer than silk. It was thick enough to fill his fist. He saw his fingers running through the raven-colored strands and knew the soft weight of it upon his palms. A punch of fury hit him as she shared her luxurious hair with such depraved mortal men.
There, dancing like a common harlot upon this stage of ill repute, was his mate.
He stood so fast his chair crashed backward to the floor. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. Barely containing his rage, he growled at the men in the bar and sent out a mental command. At once, every patron lowered their eyes and tilted their heads away from the stage.
Apparently undeterred by her audience’s sudden lack of interest, Larissa continued. Could she not see the crowd that watched her so avidly, with eyes full of lust and minds full of dishonorable thoughts?
She danced. Her hips swaying, mimicking the intimate motions that should be shared only by man and wife. He was mortified for her.
Her fingers tugged the knot of the tie. Her left hand stroked up and down the narrow strip of fabric. Her actions somehow stimulated an image of his very own anatomy—her hands working his flesh until he swelled to the point of pain that would be eased only by plunging into her warmth.
Dear God, she had to be stopped. Looking back one last time at the practically sleeping crowd, satisfied no eyes were on her, he sprung to the stage, but not before buttons went pinging and her breasts were exposed.
Larissa stumbled back into her chair with a startled scream. Staring up at him, pie-eyed with fear, she gasped. “Bishop King!”
Fury spun through him, hot and hungry for a hunt. He wanted a reason to punish her. His lip curled as he sneered. “Go ahead, Larissa, run.”
Eleazar quickly scanned the crowd, a growl slowly building in his chest as the other men in the audience admired her.
Arching back, her head tipped and the hat fell. Long, black hair cascaded to the stage floor like a waterfall. He recognized her hair, knew it better than he had any right to. It smelled of mixed berries and was softer than silk. It was thick enough to fill his fist. He saw his fingers running through the raven-colored strands and knew the soft weight of it upon his palms. A punch of fury hit him as she shared her luxurious hair with such depraved mortal men.
There, dancing like a common harlot upon this stage of ill repute, was his mate.
He stood so fast his chair crashed backward to the floor. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. Barely containing his rage, he growled at the men in the bar and sent out a mental command. At once, every patron lowered their eyes and tilted their heads away from the stage.
Apparently undeterred by her audience’s sudden lack of interest, Larissa continued. Could she not see the crowd that watched her so avidly, with eyes full of lust and minds full of dishonorable thoughts?
She danced. Her hips swaying, mimicking the intimate motions that should be shared only by man and wife. He was mortified for her.
Her fingers tugged the knot of the tie. Her left hand stroked up and down the narrow strip of fabric. Her actions somehow stimulated an image of his very own anatomy—her hands working his flesh until he swelled to the point of pain that would be eased only by plunging into her warmth.
Dear God, she had to be stopped. Looking back one last time at the practically sleeping crowd, satisfied no eyes were on her, he sprung to the stage, but not before buttons went pinging and her breasts were exposed.
Larissa stumbled back into her chair with a startled scream. Staring up at him, pie-eyed with fear, she gasped. “Bishop King!”
Fury spun through him, hot and hungry for a hunt. He wanted a reason to punish her. His lip curled as he sneered. “Go ahead, Larissa, run.”
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