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Full Page Excerpt from "My Lady
Enthralled"
(reviews below)
It was a dungeon setting, vying with the
ancient legends of kings and chateau castles. Joelle guessed that it was
such a place, and from her judgment it was no more than an hour or two
from the east side of Paris, where they had first kidnaped her. There
were blocked stone walls leaching dampness in what appeared through the
half she could see of it as a circular room. She was indeed held in a
cell. A large iron box with stout and rusted bars crossed on the top and
all the sides. It was a cage set in the middle of the circular dungeon
and when she lifted her head slightly she saw the stone steps leading
upward at a high angle to a wooden-hewed and iron-battened door.
Providence sliced through her at the exact moment she
dared to raise her head, when a soft rustling sound that seemed to come
out of nowhere, echoed in her hearing. The rustling collided with the
abrupt pounding of her heart, more than any loudness claimed by the
sound. Rats, she thought with hope, never pausing to wonder at
the dichotomy of that. Rats were nasty villains, but better than any
human villains she could think of at the moment. Then, with a trembling
neck, she turned her head slowly toward where the sound had come from,
and it was then that she first saw him.
Instantly, her breath sucked inward with surprise at
him being there, but not surprise of discovery, because his head was
bowed forward. Joelle realized immediately that she could have thought
him female at first glance, with the fall of long brown hair hanging
before him. But it was his bare chest, seen through the long strands of
dark hair draping each side of the muscular expanse that proved him
male. He was sitting slumped on the floor behind the stretch of her
feet, and Joelle noticed abruptly that he was chained. It came to her
then, as though she was struck with a sudden flash of lightening. The
marquess.
Then, without forethought, Joelle rolled upward to sit,
staring at the man as she clutched the cloak tightly around her
nakedness. He was a prisoner as she was with his hands perhaps bound
behind his back, and a chain across his chest and possibly his neck.
Could he be the marquess that Baco had so crudely stated was set to rape
her? Certainly, her instincts and the proof of her sight told her that
he was. She turned her head and gazed quickly from the lush river of his
chestnut hair and the lean, ridged outline of his lower belly. He had a
cloak thrown over him, just as she did, and she had no doubt that
beneath where the heavy black cloth lay across his hips and legs, he was
as naked as she was. And . . . he was drugged, where she was not.
Chained meant unwilling. Drugged meant unwilling. How
would he rape her? Joelle’s flesh crawled as she tried hard to think and
hold back her fear at the same time. A sexual ritual, perhaps to the
death, involving her, the marquess, and her virginity. It was insanity!
Hardly believable, yet she would defeat herself by not believing it
completely. She had enough of the pieces to make an intelligent
conclusion.
Suddenly, Joelle rushed to stand and then carelessly on
her bare feet she ran to the cell door and examined the lock. Her
grandfather had taught her to pick locks by the time she was seven years
old. Her grandmother to pick pockets. Her parents had been more reserved
about such things, but they both had knowledge of unusual talents.
Joelle reached through the bars lifting the heavy lock, bigger than her
hand. It was a turn key, with a hook and snap lock. If she had anything
long, pointed, and sharp, she could open it. But, the angle would be
difficult to hold the lock, and then hold something straight and
backward into the lock.
Joelle grimaced and she set the lock back down quietly.
Nonetheless, when she turned away, it was with quick agitated movements.
She held the cloak tightly around herself as she paced restlessly. She
was avoiding a momentous decision . . . there was little time.
She did look, with half-hearted attempts, for a long pointed object as
she paced. A stick perhaps. But more, she kept glancing at the marquess.
“It is useless to open the lock. They would catch you
before you could escape and drag you back,” Joelle muttered, “And then,
they would know you picked locks. When you could have saved it for a
better attempt . . .” Joelle lurched through a turn in her pacing,
looking at the marquess as she did so. He looked young . . . perhaps.
Yet, it was hard to tell with his head bowed forward.
Rituals. She knew of many tales of ungodly and
morbid rituals through her gypsy’s heritage. And, all of them
were of the sacrificial innocents that were put to death in the end.
This— this seemed more sexual, and not a life threatening ritual. “You
are fooling yourself,” Joelle hissed, slashing her hand through the air.
“Whatever unspeakable use they have in mind for me, without a doubt it
will eventually end in death, if nothing else, just for knowing too
much.”
“Indeed.”
Joelle gasped, whirling about at the sudden sound of a
masculine voice. Her gaze sweeping immediately to the marquess. He
looked the same however with his head bowed.
“Are you awake?” she whispered in a rush that
sounded like a hiss.
“Barely.”
Joelle nearly jumped backward at the quickness and
reality of the confirming sound, but not from any action of the marquess.
He was still slumping forward with only his chest rising and falling— a
bit heavier perhaps. Spirits take her, he was English, not
French! She could hear it in the two short words he had spoken. And,
Joelle realized that providence really did shine harshly in the moments
of decision . . . pressing her forward, guiding her. It did not allow
her to waver from the only good plan that she had, no matter how much
she despised to do it.
Fate had just burst in on her, because with the
marquess semi-awake, then she really could do it. Where before,
because he had been unconscious, she had been unsure. She knew quite a
bit about sexual relations between men and women, and she knew enough
about male physiology to understand that it might have been impossible
to harden the marquess’s cock if he had remained unconscious.
Nevertheless, now he was regaining consciousness. A perfect time to
implement her plan and use the only form of drastic diversion,
vengeance, or complete insanity she had. Virginity, verses no virginity.
And, being semiconscious the marquess would be an adaptive tool.
Saxon had the
impression of intelligence, petiteness, and burnt red hair. On one of
his moments of clarity, through the dredges of the drug they had given
him, he thought she was a ploy in the macabre game that was being played
out. However, he also remembered his fury pressing through the murky fog
of the drug. His was rage at Baco’s rough hands on her helpless nudity,
and on her alabaster buttocks, nude white globes with creamy pink-edged
curves. He had seen the splendor of that soft naked ass.
Then, he heard it again, the sultry frames of an exotic
voice. A voice he longed to lose himself in. A voice to hear in a
never-ending rhythm of pleasure. A husky vibrato. An accent he could not
claim, and therefore it intrigued him all the more.
“I am Joelle.”
Soft hands touched Saxon’s chest, running curling
ribbons of sensation down his sides. Tender fingers heating his bare
flesh.
“You are a ploy then,” Saxon muttered, trying to
feel disappointed over the smooth caresses from small hands circling his
belly.
“I am pleasure in moments of uncertainty. Can you feel
that?”
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Erotic Ebook Reviews
Fallen Angel Reviewer,
Susan says:
Saxonhurst, Marquess of Hartely is
a member of the Archangel club. He was on a mission, but has been
captured by Lord Hellion and his cult members. Joelle has also met with
the same fate. Her virginity is important to the cult as it is the prize
they need. Joelle decides to go on the offensive rather than wait to be
sexually assaulted. She decides to relieve herself of her virginity and
Saxonhurst will be one to assist her. Can Joelle and Saxon escape from
their enslavement?
Saxon and Joelle undergo extremely harsh treatment from the cultists,
but they survive. Joelle is a strong and feisty woman. Saxon is a
gentleman at heart. He tries to protect Joelle the best he can. Their
relationship starts off with a bang and takes flight from there. They
experience some fairly explosive erotic action as they are watched and
directed by the cultists. They are subjected to the whims and wants of
Lord Hellion and his followers. Both Joelle and Saxon are used sexually
by them. It is to the strength of their character that they come through
it all intact. It is clear they bonded during their ordeal and their
feelings for each other grow stronger as time progresses.
This novella focuses entirely on Saxon and Joelle’s relationship. The
other Archangels do not play a prominent role in the storyline, thus it
isn’t required to read the previous books to understand what is
happening. It is short enough for a reader to finish it quickly. It is
brimming with sexual tension and some very graphic erotic sequences.
Some of them might be a little too rough for those with weak stomachs,
as the sexual descriptions are quite graphic. However, all of it fits
the dictates of the storyline.
My Lady Enthralled is the fifth book in the Archangel series and it is
the most heart wrenching. The reader will be drawn into Joelle and
Saxon’s story as these two characters’ strength and love will win you
over.
Reviewed by: Susan,
Fallen
Angel Reviews
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