Charmaine Pauls was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a degree in Communication
at the University of Potchestroom, and followed a diverse career path in
journalism, public relations, advertising, communications, photography, graphic
design, and brand marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of
her professions
After relocating to France with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published six novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles.
When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Chile with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.
Read more about Charmaine’s romance novels and psychological short stories here on www.charmainepauls.com.
Contact Charmaine at:
Website: www.charmainepauls.com
Blog: www.charmainepauls.com/blog/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/CharmainePauls/175738829145132
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CharmainePauls
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/AuthorCharmainePauls
After relocating to France with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published six novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles.
When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Chile with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.
Read more about Charmaine’s romance novels and psychological short stories here on www.charmainepauls.com.
Contact Charmaine at:
Website: www.charmainepauls.com
Blog: www.charmainepauls.com/blog/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/CharmainePauls/175738829145132
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CharmainePauls
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/AuthorCharmainePauls
Author Interview
Can you tell us what your book is about?
Russian aeromancist, Lann Dréan, is
gifted with the supernatural art of manipulating air. A man who can control the
weather, is a powerful weapon. As part of Cain Jones’ paranormal crime
taskforce, not only is his life constantly in danger, but he is also hunted with
a price on his head. He can’t offer any woman forever, and has no business
getting involved in a long-term relationship, but when he sees a literature
student, Katherine White, at the airfield where he flies his glider, he can’t
stay away from her. Kat does what Lann believed was only a legend of his kind –
she moves his air. Molecules split around him like caressing fingers as he
watches her walk away on the airstrip, and he knows he has to have her. Not
wanting to submit her to the danger of his life, he decides to offer her a
month-long affair for the time he is vacationing in Santiago, Chile, to restore
an old monastery with an antique library he has just bought.
Kat is defenseless against the
mysterious Russian’s charm. He knows what he wants, and how to get it. He is
not shy about telling her what he likes in bed, or teaching her to express her
desires. Why not indulge in her sexual fantasies for a month, while working on
her thesis, which brought her to Lann’s private library in the first place? It
is almost as if fate destined them to meet. Throwing all caution to the wind,
Kat accepts Lann’s terms, but neither of them knows the price Kat will have to
pay for Lann’s lust, or the devastating fate that his desire will bring upon
her. Will Lann be able to save Kat, once they face the consequences of his
uncontainable passion?
This is the third book in the Seven
Forbidden Arts series. In Pyromancist (Book 1), the Japanese orphan,
Clelia, is gifted with the art of manipulating fire, the first forbidden art.
There are seven arts in total, which were forbidden by the church in the Middle
Ages, as it was perceived as demonic acts. This part of history is factual. The
stories in this series are fictional. In Aeromancist we meet Lann, who
can control the weather, and thereby the world. His power is immense. The arts
can be harvested, if the practitioner’s soul is twisted before he is killed. If
it falls into the wrong hands, it could mean the end of the world. Cain and his
team continue to fight their rival, a man only known as Godfrey, in the third
of nine books. Each book reads as a standalone, and you don’t need to read the
others to follow the story, although I do recommend that you read them in
chronological order for the best reading enjoyment.
Why did you write your book?
This book is part of a 9-book
series, with one book dedicated to each of the seven forbidden arts of old,
plus a bonus book and a novella. I already had the story idea and plotline for
this book while I was writing the first one, after visiting an old Franciscan
monastery in Santiago, Chile, that houses a library of antique, hand-written
books. It seemed like the perfect home for Lann, who loves books and poetry, as
well as antiques. The setting was mysterious and gothic, and became the second
stop in the international cast’s world tour.
Can you tell us a little about your main and
supporting characters?
In this book, the main characters are Lann and Kat. Together
they face danger, sexual tension, emotional stress, but also a problem that, if
not solved, will wreck their lives. Without giving away any spoilers, I will
just say that the solution to their problem will also aid the supporting
characters, Josselin and Clelia, who we met in Book 1 (Pyromancist), to overcome an obstacle that they encountered at the
end of the first book.
Josselin, or Joss for short, is the leader of the taskforce
and married to Clelia. Joss doesn’t possess one of the forbidden arts, but he
has the gift of telling many things about people by tasting their blood. Joss
is a powerful Frenchman and the heir of the Josselin Castle in the village of
Josselin, Brittany, France, named after his royal ancestors.
We also meet the commander and team sponsor, Cain, who is an
American with the said ability to read minds. Maya Martin is the team’s
hydromancist. For now, the beautiful South African is part of the supporting
cast, until she has her own story in Book 3 (Hydromancist), coming in September. Her element is water, and she
can split the sea like Moses. The team’s Senegalese pilot, Bono Black, is
always ready to fly them to their next mission. He is happiest in the air, with
a joystick in his hands. We briefly see Clelia’s adoptive grandfather, Erwan,
again, while Godfrey, Cain’s archenemy, is as elusive as ever. Godfrey makes
his appearance in the prequel novel to the series, Loving the Enemy, and won’t be seen again, except for very fleeting
performances, until the bonus book, Book 9.
There is also the FBI agent, Antony Vaughn, who seems to be
as interested in Kat as he is in catching Lann. Vanessa, a journalist on Lann’s
tail, shows her claws, and Adam, Godfrey’s adopted son, is the emotional sadist
who will make Kat’s life hell. For the first time we are introduced to
Godfrey’s blood son, the deformed Nicolas, who harbors an affection for the
classic Hunchback of Notre Dame due to his personal disposition. Eve, the team
doctor, also has a more extensive cast in this story, as her participation is
vital to the main characters’ wellbeing and future. There are a few more minor
characters, such as Kat’s friend Diana, Kat’s parents, her thesis mentor,
Lann’s butler, a co-pilot, the vampires of Vamp valley in Paris, the gila
shifter, David, and his crazy brother Daniel.
Together, they guarantee to keep you on the edge of your
seat.
Do you tend to base your characters on real
people or are they totally from your imagination?
These characters are 100%
fictional, although I do watch people and their behavior closely in order to
capture mannerisms and dialogue accurately. Observation of a broad spectrum of
cultures and spoken tongues is especially important in this series, as the cast
is an international group from countries all over the world. They each speak a
different language, and have distinctive values and customs.
Are you consciously aware of the plot before
you begin a novel or do you discover it as you write?
I have to have a detailed plot
outline before I start writing, because I like to know what I am writing
towards, what the obstacles are, where I am going to plant clues for the
readers, and for what resolution I am aiming. Because of the elements of crime,
mystery, loads of action, and explosive relationships, I need to know what each
scene’s objective is. I like to make every word count. If I write in a
hit-and-run fashion, I’m afraid I’ll spin a tail like a yard of wool, and the
readers will pick up on me running in circles in my own mind.
Does the setting play a major part in the
development of your story?
Oh yes. Setting is a major part of
each book. In fact, each story is weaved around a unique setting. I choose them
for their mystery, gothic ambience, and allure. In Loving the Enemy, the
prequel, Jacob and Lily meets in Cape Town. Their flight takes them from
Komatipoort in the north of South Africa to Mozambique, Algiers, and then to
Normandy, France, before ending in Paris. In Pyromancist (Book 1) the
story kicks off in Brittany, France, in the quaint fishermen village of
Larmor-Baden, and Carnac, the site of the Celtic standing stones. From there
Joss and Clelia move to his castle in the village of Josselin. In Aeromancist,
The Beginning (the prequel novella to Book 3) we follow Lann and Kat from
Santiago, Chile to Joss’ castle in France. Where Book 1 features France, and
Book 2 and 3 showcase Chile, Book 3 will play off in Costa Rica. Each book
boasts a unique and exotic destination.
I always use existing settings, as
I like to have a physical feel for each place before using it as a backdrop. My
writing style tends to be very descriptive, involving all of the senses, and
ambience is important to me, hence the setting has to be perfect. I like to
experience a place extensively – the food, the weather, the people, the
culture, the language, the nature, the music – before placing the characters on
that stage.
Have you suffered from writer’s block and what
do you do to get back on track?
I think any creative writer gets to a point at some stage in
his or her career where he feels ‘stuck’. Whenever I reach that point, or feel
such a stage coming on, I write over it. I keep on writing and writing until,
eventually, I become ‘unstuck’. I find the continuous act of writing dispels
the sensation of being blocked. At some point, I always hit the right note
again, and then I simply go back and fix the uninspired parts that need to be
prepped up.
What do you like the most about being an
author?
I love creating stories. The library was my favorite place as
a child. The smell of ink and the feel of paper were like magic. Within the
leather- or fabric-clad covers of the books (plenty of them back then didn’t
have graphics, but only a leather or fabric face) lay worlds of unimaginable adventures
to discover. The part I enjoy most, is sitting down at my desk and
refabricating that feeling I experienced as a child when I opened a book,
inhaled its scent, and got ready for a fantasy ride. Because I enjoy solitude,
and especially working alone, the creative part of writing for long hours brings
me the most joy.
What is the most pivotal point of a writer’s
life?
For me, it was publishing my first book. Up to that point, I
didn’t have to worry about marketing, or sales. I could still bask in the dream
of the product I was creating, even if I was, at the time, only creating it for
myself. The minute the book went live, when the story was out there in the
world, it was as if I stepped from the quiet solitude of my study under the
spotlights onto a stage. The content was now public property, and I felt like I
was standing naked in front of everyone with my soul on display. Discovering
the ‘business’ of writing (the promotions, communication and marketing) was the
pivot point for me. It turned my dream and creative hobby into a business.
What kind of advice would you give other
fiction authors?
Persevere! Many times during the
writing of my first book, I doubted my story, my skill, and myself. Every time
I hit a ‘doubt hurdle’, I just continued writing. If you don’t have a book, you
can’t submit it. The secret is to keep on going, and never stop. Just do it!
Because you can.
About The Book
Book 2: Seven Forbidden Arts Series
Author: Charmaine Pauls
Publisher: Mélange Books
Publication Date: July 6, 2015
Pages: 284
ASIN: B010766W5S
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Format: eBook / ePub / PDF
Preorder Book Buy Links: Publication Date: July 6, 2015
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Aeromancist-Seven-Forbidden-Arts-Book-ebook/dp/B010766W5S/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1435679181&sr=1-1&keywords=aeromancist+charmaine+pauls
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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25809530-aeromancist?ac=1
Discuss this book in our PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads by clicking HERE
Passion always comes with a price.
All he could offer was thirty days of passion.
He condemned her to a terrible fate instead.
Now he’ll do everything in his power to save her.
He is known as the Weatherman. Lann Dréan is the last of his kind. A price on his head, chased for a power he should not possess, he can’t promise any woman forever. All he can offer Katherine White is thirty days of passion. But his uncontainable desire comes with an unforeseen price. Lann’s lust will cost Kat everything. Now he’ll do anything to save her from the fate he has brought upon her.
* This book contains adult content with explicit language and frequent, consummated love scenes, including light bondage, sex toys and breath play. Reader discretion is advised.
Book Excerpt:
Short Excerpt
From the expression on Lann’s face,
Kat knew he hadn’t expected her. Alfonso hadn’t warned him of her visit. Lann
sat behind his desk, very similar to the first time they had met, but this time
he was in the library, and not in his office. He had probably been working on
the restoration of his ancient books, because he wore his glasses. Removing
them, he immediately got to his feet. The air felt lighter, as it always did in
his presence. Wisps of her hair lifted as if to an invisible caress, but Lann
didn’t acknowledge the subtle dance of molecules this time.
As
always he looked impeccable in tailored pants and a white dress shirt. He stood
immobile, exerting calm, waiting for her to make the first move. Kat had never
been fooled about the latent danger that lurked under his quiet sophistication
and intellectual air. There was a raw energy about Lann that hinted at his
wildness, even as his exterior was polished civility.
“Alfonso
showed me in,” she said.
“Katherine.”
His lips lifted in the corner, exposing his dimple.
Her
heart broke at his smile. It was the one he reserved for other people. Never
for her. It was automatic, a practiced social stance, and she hated it.
Hers
was faint in return. She glanced at the employees who were handling his books
with protective gloves. “May we speak in private, please?”
He
frowned. “Let’s go to my office.”
He
led the way. At least he hadn’t thrown her out on sight. She was walking the
familiar path she believed she’d never walk again. The air gathered around his
ankles as he moved, lapping at her feet as she followed in his wake. She had
never felt it stronger, and yet, it should have been the reverse. She was
supposed to be cutting the tie, not strengthening it, dammit.
Inside
his office he almost took a military stance, his shoulders straight, his arms
behind his back, as if keeping them there would prevent him from touching her.
But his eyes were filled with warmth and concern.
“Katherine,
I didn’t tell you I was back because I didn’t want to make it harder on you.”
He
didn’t owe her an explanation. She agreed to his terms. With her eyes wide
open.
“I
came back to take care of the money,” he continued. “When Alfonso told me you
returned everything–”
“I
don’t want your money.”
“You
can live in comfort. Why struggle, if I have enough to share?”
“Because
it wasn’t part of our agreement,” she snapped. She took a calming breath. “Because
it’ll make me feel like a prostitute.”
His
expression was incredulous as he considered the statement, but after a moment
he inclined his head. “Of course. I respect your decision.”
“Lann…”
She chewed her lip, thinking of the best way to tell him. Hadn’t she practiced
her line a million times? “I wouldn’t have broken our agreement if it wasn’t
necessary.”
He
stared at her expectantly. There was no easy way to break the news.
“I’m
pregnant.”
He
froze. The heat evaporated from his gaze. His upper arms flexed as he clasped
his hands behind his back. She couldn’t tell if he was mad or disappointed.
Either way, neither was the reaction she was hoping for.
The
silence stretched between them. For a while he seemed incapable of speaking or
moving. Only his eyes lowered and rested on her abdomen.
“It’s
impossible,” he finally said.
She
opened her handbag, retrieved the blood test results and offered it to him
shakily. Lann lifted one hand from behind his back and took the piece of paper.
Kat watched him closely as he read it. His eyes widened and narrowed again. She
presumed he was looking at the age of the child growing inside of her, doing
the calculation in his mind. Emotions she couldn’t place played across his
face. Was it sadness, envy, anger that made him press his lips so tightly
together? Finally, he lifted his head. She didn’t like the way he looked at
her.
He
handed her back the report. “Congratulations.” His voice was impersonal. “Who’s
the father?”
The
words punched the air from Kat’s lungs with the same ferocity as when he had
cut her airflow during lovemaking. Then it had given her an earth-shattering
orgasm. Now it caused her pain, with the same intensity. She couldn’t believe
he said that. Hurt and anger blurred her vision. She drew back her hand, and
before she could stop herself, she slapped him. She took a step away from him,
biting back the tears. The trace of her fingers lay red across his pale cheek.
Lann accepted her abuse with a stoic expression, without uttering a word.
“You
bastard,” she whispered. “You needn’t feign your innocence by insulting me. Are
you afraid I’ll ask you for child support? Do you think I expect you to play an
unwilling role in this baby’s life? Maybe you think I’ll try to emotionally
blackmail you into marrying me.” She clutched her bag to her chest like a
shield. “I didn’t come here expecting anything from you. I want nothing. I only
came because you had a right to know.” She took a ragged breath. “And to ask
why you lied to me.”
When
he still didn’t speak, she nodded slowly, the unwelcome tears threatening to
find their way to her cheeks. He wasn’t going to offer any explanation, any
solace, any excuse.
“I
see,” she said. “Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”
She
turned for the door, but Lann’s voice halted her. “Please stay. You’re upset.
I’ll take you home when you feel calmer.”
To
her dismay, a small gasp escaped her. Did he honestly think she’d stay after
what he just said? Not looking back, she ran downstairs, not caring that Lann
was calling after her loud enough for the building to hear, or that his
employees were staring at her from the library window.
Long Excerpt
“You made your bed, you sleep in
it,” my mother always said.
I
made this bed, with Lann Dréan in it. Only, he wasn’t anymore, not after thirty
days of the best sex of my life. What remained were crumpled sheets and
consequences.
How
could I not be attracted to him? I had a thing for intellectual guys,
especially damaged ones. And Lann was damaged, alright. His father abandoned
him at birth, never forgiving him for his mother’s death. It took some time
before Lann told me how he grew up in the streets of Moscow, stealing and
cheating his way to survival. He never revealed what he did for a living, how
he became a self-made millionaire. He had pulled himself from the gutter and
built a life. From the guards surrounding us, I knew he was involved in
something dangerous, maybe illegal, but I told myself it didn’t matter because
ours wasn’t a permanent relationship. It was a thirty-day contract.
When
I first met Lann it was in his privately owned library of ancient books. He had
just bought the Santiago convent. The plan was to spend a month of holiday
there before going home to New York. I had been rewarded a scholarship for an
exchange program in Chile to conduct my thesis on daemon lovers. His
handwritten books were invaluable to my research. He spotted me from his office
balcony and when everyone else left, kept me behind.
Lann
was reserved, to the point of being recluse. Few photos existed of him, even as
the paparazzi hunted and stalked him. Nothing could have prepared me for the
tall Russian. He was lean, well defined, minus the bulging muscles I hated. His
long, blond hair was mostly braided down his back. I preferred it to when he
wore it loose, because that way I could admire his ears. He had perfect
ears–beautifully proportioned, slightly elongated–but I never said as much
because he was sensitive about them. A silver ring was pierced through the top
left one. His dark Prada glasses gave him an academic look in a sexy kind of
way. His most unusual feature was his eyes. In the dark they seemed yellow. In
daylight I could see they were a mix of amber and brown flecks. And when he
opened his mouth and spoke to me in his thick Russian accent, telling me I moved
the air for him, my knees went weak.
So,
when he asked me to give my body to him for thirty days, exclusively, I signed
my name on the dotted line. Although I had given him carte blanche, he took his
time to lure me, to teach me what he liked. It was never a seduction. Unless I
gave him permission, he didn’t move on. But I wanted it. All of it. All of him.
Lann woke a dark side in me, a part I didn’t know lurked in the shadows of my
desire. Only when I was comfortable with him did he tie me up, blindfolded and
gagged me, and he didn’t introduce me to breath play until I trusted him. In
those naked moments I made myself vulnerable, gave him control of my body, and
he rewarded me with pleasure that wracked my mind and left me craving more.
One
day, he flew me in a water plane to a private lake for a picnic. It was the
most perfect day of my life.
We
were sitting on the shore.
“Lann,
this is incredible,” I said.
His
palm smoothed over my shoulder. “You’ve been studying too hard. Been cooped up
in my convent for too long.”
“So
this is my reward?”
“No.
I think your reward will come later.”
“What
a lucky girl I am.”
“The
luck is all mine, bella.”
“Are
you hungry?”
“For
food?” he drawled.
“You’re
impossible.” I gave him stern look and brought a piece of cheese to his lips.
“Open.”
He
obeyed. He took the cheese, and sucked my fingers into his mouth. I could feel
the atmosphere shift in a second. Lann had a hundred different moods a day, and
I took pleasure in the knowledge that I started to understand how to navigate
them. He allowed me to feed him some more, and after I had eaten, he got to his
feet and started removing his clothes.
“What
are you doing?” I said with a laugh, looking around, even if I knew we were
alone.
“Come
swim with me.”
“The
water will be freezing.”
“Are
you a pussy?”
“You
didn’t just call me that.”
“Oh
yes, I did.”
I
jumped up and discarded my clothes faster than him. Before he was out of his
pants, I was running to the water, stark naked. I gritted my teeth when I felt
the iciness around my feet. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Lann making his way
to the water, a huge grin on his face. I held my breath and charged. It was so
cold it felt as if it would stop my heart. I let out a yelp, and heard Lann’s
laugh echo behind me. I dove in and swam furiously for a few strokes to warm up
my limbs. When I turned, Lann still stood on the beach.
“Come
on!” I beckoned him with a curled finger. “Or are you a pussy?”
He
made big eyes at me. “What did you just call me?”
“I
said–”
Before
I could complete the sentence, he was storming me. I managed to splash him
before he got wet, and heard his curse before he dove underwater to resurface
in front of me. Laughing, I tried to swim away from him, but he grabbed me
around the waist.
“Not
so fast, bella.”
He
turned me to face him and jerked me against him. His body was warm in the
coldness of the water. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, pressing close.
His erection strained against my pelvis. Lann wasn’t laughing any longer. He
groaned, and his eyes turned a darker shade of gold. His hands went to my
bottom, gripping me firmly. He lifted me slightly so that his hardness pressed
against my folds. The water contracted my skin, and when he lifted me higher
with one hand, spreading my opening with the other, an onslaught of cold water
assaulted my swollen clit. Immediately the sensation was replaced with the
warmth of his body as he lowered me onto his erection, sliding effortlessly
into my lubricated depth. I arched my back, gasping as he claimed me with every
inch he had.
“God,
Katherine, I’m buried so deep inside of you,” he said against my neck.
He
kissed me feverishly, sucking my skin into his mouth, making me scream as he
bit down gently.
“You
drive me wild, krasota.” His tongue moved
down my neck to the hollow of my throat, trailing a path to my breasts. He
licked each upper curve, before he took a cold, hard nipple in his warm mouth.
I moaned loudly. He started suckling me, moving me up and down on him.
“Is
this good, bella?”
I
whimpered. “Lann…”
“Tell
me, Katherine. Tell me what you want.”
“Everything.
I want everything.”
“You
don’t know what you’re asking,” he said darkly.
“Then
show me.”
His
mouth claimed mine with hard approval, his tongue sweeping over my lips before
he drank the very breath from me. I struggled to draw air through my nose while
he claimed my mouth like that. He kissed and kissed me until I felt the urge to
shove away from him to draw air, but when I pushed with my palms on his chest,
he only sealed his lips tighter over mine, at the same time increasing the pace
with which he was penetrating me. My clit rubbed against his pelvis. One hand
closed around my throat, applying gentle pressure, while the other spread the
cheeks of my ass. Sensations slammed into me. His fingers around my neck
tightened, cutting off my oxygen. I felt a finger rubbing down my cleft, and
then I felt it there. I jerked when
Lann pushed on that forbidden entrance. It was hard to think with my body
craving air, craving him, and craving release. Already my orgasm was a tightly
coiled cord, a second away from snapping. Just when I thought I was going to
black out from the lack of air, he released my throat, at the same time pushing
his finger inside my rear. As oxygen reached my brain, my orgasm exploded in me
with an intensity I had never felt before. I clung to him, filled by his cock
and his finger, as the waves crushed over me and continued to ripple long after
he had spurted all of his seed inside of me. My strength gone, all I could
manage was to lean my head on his shoulder, and to trust him to take care of
me.
Lann
kissed my hair and my cheek. He said gentle things to me in Russian, while he
slowly pulled his finger from my slightly burning backside. I moaned, and he
kissed my forehead. I felt like fainting from the aftershocks of pleasure. I
tried to lower my legs, but Lann prevented me with his hands on my ankles.
“Hold
on, krasavitsa,” he said against my
ear. “Don’t try to walk.”
He
gently cleaned me in the water, washing his semen from me, before carrying me
to the shore. I had never felt more depleted in my entire life. It was worse
than the time I had a few drinks too many at the student bar and my friend had
to drive me home and put me to bed.
I
started shivering as Lann lowered me onto our picnic blanket. He stretched out
on top of me and folded the blanket around our bodies. He kissed my neck and
shoulder until I felt his heat penetrating my skin, and my body once more
relaxed. When the shivering stopped, he lifted himself to look down at me.
“The
sun will warm you. I’m going to get off you now. At first it’ll feel cold with
the breeze, but you’ll dry in no time.”
I
whimpered when he rolled off me, exposing my skin to the air. “No, don’t.”
“I’m
too heavy.” He rubbed my arms.
That
was the first time I felt the air move around us. It shifted down from my
shoulders to my feet, a blanket of clouds pulled over a naked body. This was
the dance of air Lann had tried to describe to me, what he meant when he said I
moved the air for him. At first the breeze made me feel colder, but then I
gradually warmed as the sun dried my skin. I felt extremely lethargic.
“What
did you do to me?” I said, trying to focus on Lann’s face and not fall asleep.
“I
cut off your ability to breathe, just for a few seconds. The surge of oxygen
that follows makes you come harder.”
“That
it did,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Katherine,
look at me.” I gazed back at him. His expression seemed concerned. “Did you
enjoy it?”
“Oh,
yes.” I tried to nod. “It was the best sex of my life.”
A
slow smile curved his lips. “Good.” His eyes warmed. “Your trust means
everything to me.”
He
lay down next to me and pulled me into her arms. We stayed like that until I
felt some of my energy return. When I tried to sit up, he shook his head.
“Rest.”
“I
need a drink.” I reached for my glass of champagne.
“No
more alcohol,” he said. He sat up and reached inside the basket, taking out a
bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap, lifted my head and brought the bottle to
my mouth. After a few sips, I lay back again, studying him.
“You’re
so handsome,” I said.
“And
you’re so expressive. I can never get enough of your face when it’s contorted
with pleasure, knowing it’s the pleasure I bring you.”
“You
bring me lots of pleasure,” I said, mumbling my agreement.
“Now
I’m going to feed you strawberries.” His eyes went to my breasts. “And then I’m
going to fuck you softly.”
That
was the day I knew I had fallen in love with him.
By
the time Day Thirty arrived, I was addicted. To him. But I had signed a
contract to walk away, and never look back. And it wasn’t as if he gave me a
choice when he left me behind. What I
thought would be a harmless sexual adventure had burned a hole in my existence.
I had fallen in love with Lann, when I promised I wouldn’t. But there was more
at stake than my heart. I never would have guessed that accepting his contract
was signing my death warrant. There was only one thing left to do. To sleep in
the bed I had made. And it may just cost me … everything.
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