First, I brought you Raev Gray/Aleksandr Voinov with Transit. Now I bring you Brita Addams with Love Immortal. Her first m/m release...how exciting. And vampires no less. Mmmmm, I do love me some vampires. And, this is not just a giveaway, but a giveaway with an exclusive excerpt! Oh yeah, exclusive. How friggin' awesome is that?! Uber... that's how awesome. Oh yeah, uber of the awesome.
Before I get to the contest details, I simply must tell you again about the even uber awesomER book release celebration going on over at Brita's site today. She's got all kinds of things going on. Giveaways, chats, and... get this... uber hottie goodness joining her in her chat room... Romance Novel model Jimmy Thomas himself. That would be the hottie on the cover there. How yummy is he?! He'll be joining her book release party in her chat room at 5 eastern, 4 central, 2 pacific time.
Wow, how cool is Brita?! I think I'm a little jealous.
Go Brita, Go Brita
Um, yeah... sorry... where was I? Oh... that's right... to get there, just click that beautiful cover and you'll be transported over to Brita's site where all the festivities are.
To buy the book, click here.
Now, for my contest here at the Place, it's pretty simple. Brita has given us an ebook for the contest, so no border restrictions on this one. Doesn't matter if you've entered my other contest this week, or if you've won recently, you're welcome to enter this one as well. The rest...same as before, just read the excerpt, and leave me a comment on this post telling me...
Who's turning did Laurent bitterly regret?
You have a week, contest will end next Saturday, December 11th, at midnight PST. Winner will be picked at random from those with the correct answer.
So, are you ready? Let's do it to it...
May I present...
An Amara's Place Exclusive!
Seen nowhere else in the history of the internet...
Love Immortal by Brita Addams ~ Chapter One...
Berkshire, England 1816
"Well, you must turn me then, because I don't wish to live without you."
Laurent smiled. He believed what the beautiful Alistair said but knew he would deny him.
"No, dear one. I will stay with you as long as you wish, but I will not inflict this life, or lack of life, upon you. Please do not ask this of me ever again, for it will mean the end of us as surely as though you had died."
"Please," Alistair said.
"No, I won't."
One year later…
The look on his beloved Alistair's face then and on the night he died would haunt Laurent Kinsdale throughout eternity. He'd denied himself eternal true love because he loved Alistair Wyncott more than he'd thought himself capable.
The reason for the denial was based in the most selfish act he'd ever committed. Nearly one hundred and thirty years before, in a moment of extreme impulsiveness, Laurent had turned his lover, Graham Symonds. As a result, Graham embarked on an orgy of mayhem, starting with the fiery deaths of the people who'd raised Laurent, the brutal rape of Laurent and the many destroyed villages, raped and murdered innocents. His anger knew no bounds.
To say the very least, Laurent bitterly regretted Graham's turning. Now alone, in hindsight, in his profound loneliness, he wondered if he shouldn't have been selfish just once more.
As he prepared for the country assembly this night, the first he'd attended in decades, he contemplated his losses, the most recent that of Alistair, not quite dead a year.
They'd spent thirty wonderful years together, traveling and living a rather mundane life in the cottage that Laurent had called home for nearly two hundred years. He ached even now for Alistair's touch, his voice, his warmth. On his darkest days, he cried for him, needed his counsel, his friendship, his body. Then Graham's image would come to the fore, his former lover, a monster. He feared he'd never be free of him.
As he tied his cravat, he steeled himself, determined to go on. He intended to join country society, mingle a bit more than was his custom. Though private by nature, he had long since sickened of his own company.
Long coat and matching waistcoat in place, he arranged his tall hat on his head and walked out into the cool night air. John Coachman waited to take him to the assembly hall in Slough.
As the carriage jostled along the rutted, uneven road, Laurent removed his hat and pressed his head against the squabs. His thoughts drifted to what he was about to do and how the thirty years he'd spent with Alistair seemed so inadequate.
He'd not been back in Berkshire long. He'd left soon after he'd buried Alistair, not able to bear the familiar things they'd shared.
Over his two centuries, he'd left from time to time to spend several decades away, while many of the locals aged and died off. He'd return, all but forgotten, the name familiar to some, others convinced quite easily that he was a son, about to assume the family home. He communed with as few of the villagers as politeness would allow, though being a complete recluse was impractical.
Not aging, while others did, played hell with people's perceptions. When necessary, he would tell them he was the descendent of someone they remembered, which eliminated unwanted questions.
The last few years away had done wonders for him, in that much had changed about who he'd been. When he returned after his long sojourn, his ability to withstand the onslaught of memories was greatly tested. Eventually, he faced his loss and made peace with his decision to not turn Alistair, despite it being all the man had wanted from him. Reason said loss was a part of life, a very painful part to be sure.
During a prolonged illness, when they thought Alistair might die, the man asked Laurent to go on, find love again. While away, he'd traversed several countries, enjoying the bodies of willing men; love was not sought nor found. He'd gorged himself on sex and saw no end to the banquet.
His reverie was interrupted when the carriage slowed in front of the hall. Bright candlelight shone through the windows, and voices and music seemed overloud to his ears.
He alighted from the carriage and made his way into the building, nodded, and greeted his way past country squires and their ladies.
Go on. That was why he was at this particular assembly. During his nightly prowls, he'd discovered a rather delicious looking young man and, in his investigation of him, found he attended all the country dances.
Laurent, once clear of the folks that intercepted his progress, leaned against a simple, rough-hewn post as he stared across the large room. He could smell the man's resistance to the young women surrounding him, the locusts of society who sought new, lush crops.
As he watched, his blood warmed, at least in theory, at the sight of the young, dark-haired man who gave Laurent ideas as to how he'd like to spend the rest of the evening. His cock concurred, and being the slave of the flesh that he was, Laurent usually followed his cock's best instincts.
The young man's smile intoxicated him and was misplaced, being used on the three vapid young women who stood in rapt attention as they giggled behind their fans at the man's every word. Such a diplomat.
Laurent yearned to push the simpering fools aside, strip the young man naked, and take him right there, with no ceremony, nothing. That, however, would get him nowhere but in deep trouble. He took a mental breath and planned the introduction that he hoped would lead to some rather amusing times.
He examined the young man with discernment, from his neat, curly brown hair, patrician nose and full lips that begged for his attentions, to his well filled out dark-blue evening coat. The fawn breeches were tight, as dictated by current fashion, leaving little to Laurent's libidinous imagination. The bulge at the apex of the man's thighs increased the figurative itch in the palms of Laurent's hands. As his own "bulge" grew, his tongue jutted out over his lips. He'd already conceived of a secluded place where he could take this prey and partake of his body.
Make your move, old boy, or you shall be left wanting.
His mind spoke all the sense in the world. Only on rare occasions did Laurent deny himself anything, not since he'd lost the person who'd meant the world to him. It was only after so much time alone did he rue the day he'd rejected Alistair's request to be turned. Oh, how he lamented that decision.
Unable to avoid the approach of a country matron, Laurent straightened himself to a more formal posture.
"Good evening, Mr. Kinsdale, so nice to see you at our little assembly."
Laurent smiled and bowed crisply. "As it is nice to see you, Mrs. Powder. Are you enjoying the evening?"
"I should say I am, but I would be delighted if you would reserve a dance for me."
"I am afraid, Mrs. Powder, I am all feet and no finesse. Dancing has never been my forte, to the benefit of any potential partner's feet, I'm sure."
The woman slapped his arm with her fan and giggled. To her credit, Mrs. Powder demurred, begged his pardon for her precipitous departure and went about trying to secure another unsuspecting gentleman to partner her.
Laurent noted the young man had managed to break away from the women. He thought again of that most pleasant smile, which made Laurent wish to trace those lips with his fingers, just before feeling those same lips close around his throbbing cock. His spine tingled, said cock hardened, and Laurent's determination was set in stone.
He crossed the room, the ostensible purpose to visit the refreshment room, which happened to be situated next to where his quarry stood. Perfection.
"Nice gathering," Laurent said. He'd stopped next to the man who he now determined was far more appealing than his first assessment had allowed. He smelled of sandalwood, a fragrance that evoked a great measure of decadence.
"Yes, should one be interested in what is being offered." The statement, given in a warm, honeyed baritone voice could, with ease, be taken for suggestive.
Laurent could smell the unmistakable scent of desire emanating the young man. "You've not found the company of those lovely young ladies to your liking?"
The young man turned his head to face Laurent, his blue eyes among the most riveting Laurent had ever encountered. "Not particularly, sir, and you?"
"I find the evening has improved." Laurent raised his eyebrows and smiled.
"Then we seem to be in accord, sir." He extended his hand. "Sebastian Fitzhugh."
"Laurent Kinsdale." He held Sebastian's hand just a moment longer than necessary. Electricity fired between them, Laurent's body coming alive with possibilities. "Mayhap I could offer you refreshment away from our current surroundings?"
"I believe I would enjoy that infinitely more than worrying about the next dance."
With a gesture toward the door, Laurent said, "My carriage awaits." He ushered Sebastian out of the large assembly hall. Laurent's driver brought the coach around and stopped in front of the two men. Laurent opened the door and motioned for Sebastian to enter first. When both were settled, Laurent tapped on the roof and the carriage lurched forward.
By the light of a pair of brass carriage lamps, Laurent was able to see Sebastian's face quite clearly. He'd felt Sebastian's gaze rake over him since Sebastian had taken the opposite seat. Oh, how he wished to see this man naked.
"You are a very attractive man, Mr. Kinsdale." The voice was seductive, low, almost whispered.
"Do you find me so, Mr. Fitzhugh? I dare say, I have admired your fair countenance all evening."
Sebastian smiled and nodded. "I see we are in accord."
"I saw that fact from across the room." "Seeing" wasn't exactly how he had determined his advances would be welcomed, but it was accurate enough.
"Is that so? Was I so obvious?"
"I am possessed of an unfailing instinct in these matters, sir, and I am rarely mistaken."
"Your intuition is spot on, Mr. Kinsdale, and I thank you for your discretion."
"To my own benefit as well."
With a nod of acknowledgment, Sebastian asked, "Where are we going?"
"I thought you might appreciate a more private location for our refreshments."
"Yes, private would suit quite nicely."
He continued to stare at Sebastian, who stared back. There was a connection; sexual fire smoldered, begging to be fanned into a conflagration. Sebastian would soon see Laurent was an all or nothing type lover, demanding. He gave more than his share, but he wanted reciprocation, and the interlude was never over until all was drained from his partner.
Sebastian's eyes were riveted on the stranger sitting opposite him. He was beautiful, with brown hair and eyes, something he'd observed in the bright candlelight of the hall. He'd seen Kinsdale across the room, sure the man had noticed him as well. He thought he'd collapse when Kinsdale sauntered toward him.
Sebastian moved his leg to touch Laurent's. The move earned him a groan as Laurent moved his leg as close as possible.
"Do you do this often?"
"Do what often?"
"Seek out the company of another man."
"As often as I possibly can, Mr. Fitzhugh. I am of a libidinous nature."
Sebastian smiled, feeling his face heat. "I see."
"I believe I do. I am of a similar nature, but find my choices somewhat limited in Slough."
Save for the man I saw you with some weeks ago. "As have I, until now."
He pressed his leg tighter against Laurent's, his cock responding to the innuendo which hung like mist between them. A sexual encounter was just what he needed, though he hadn't relished a potential fuck in an alley.
The dance hadn't shown much promise as the women outnumbered the men two to one. He'd gone to allay boredom, since he hadn't wished to face yet another evening at his small cottage, reading and thinking of the one person who'd fulfilled his every fantasy and would never do so again. A bullet had ended those hopes at Waterloo, leaving a sexual dry spell since.
The carriage stopped. Sebastian waited for Kinsdale to open the door and climb out before he alighted. He was led into a cottage that appeared to be twice the size of his own. The low fire in the grate danced shadows on the walls, illuminating the room just enough.
Kinsdale lit the candles in a sconce, giving the large room a golden glow. Sebastian couldn't help but notice how his companion looked especially fetching in the ethereal light.
"I have but two servants, the driver and his wife. They live in the village and only come 'round by prearrangement."
Sebastian took this as assurance of the privacy Mr. Kinsdale had spoken of earlier. "How convenient for you."
"I would say, dear boy, it is convenient for us."
Sebastian liked Kinsdale's style, straight forward, no pretense. If a doubt existed as to the purpose of Sebastian's presence in Kinsdale's home, it wasn't due to any pretence on the host's part.
Kinsdale handed Sebastian a snifter of brandy and sat on a settee. He crossed his long legs, strung a languid arm across the back of the piece, and sipped his brandy, his eyes on Sebastian. Though he hadn't been accorded an invitation to sit, Sebastian did so, just opposite his host and posed himself in a similar fashion.
"Good brandy," he said, lifting his snifter.
"Yes, it is."
Sebastian felt the shortness and impatience with the attempted conversation.
Though he well knew the answer, he asked the obvious question anyway. "Why am I here?"
Kinsdale took a slow, deliberate swallow of brandy then rested the snifter on his knee. A curve toyed with his bottom lip before he spoke. "You are here, Mr. Fitzhugh, because you, I venture to say, wish to bed me."
Sebastian gave a dry laugh and took a draught of his brandy. "I daresay, Mr. Kinsdale, I presumed it to be just the opposite."
With a nod, Kinsdale said, "And so it is."
Ground rules established. Laurent stood and walked toward another room, which Sebastian assumed, was the bedchamber. He sat for a few minutes, sipped the remainder of his brandy, and smiled at his good fortune. He'd not taken a cock in ages. The man in the next room, however, evoked his baser instincts, those that ranged from a simple touch to cocksucking and more; whatever the other man would allow.
He, himself, had no limitations. He'd fall short of begging, but he longed to feel the other man as he moved within him, a feeling of which he'd never tire. He knew who and what he was, his masculinity never in question. He'd fought in a war, been injured at Quatre Bras, and he'd taken his unit to victory many times. He'd helped to defeat the Corsican and lived to tell the tale. He had no fear of his sexuality, only that it could, one day, lead to his destruction.
He drained the last of his brandy and stood, removed his coat and waistcoat, and made his way to the bedchamber. A flickering light emanated from the other room, and he saw Kinsdale's shadow moving about. He walked through the door, and his breath caught.
In all his thirty years, he'd never seen such a beautiful sight. His host leaned against the post of the bed, sans clothing. In his large hand, he held his engorged cock, which he stroked with admirable ennui.
Sebastian's heart thudded, his gaze fixed on the deeply veined organ. "I'd no idea you'd start without me."
"I wished to be prepared." Kinsdale raised a seductive eyebrow. "It would appear you are overdressed," he said, as he stepped forward. "Let me help you." He untied Sebastian's cravat, unwound the long piece of fabric and dropped it to the floor. He leaned in and touched the corner of Sebastian's mouth with his lips. His tongue jutted out and licked. Sebastian sensed the precise moment when he fell under the man's spell.