Hot toddies: Nicola E Sheridan


Hot toddies: Nicola E Sheridan

From A Warlord’s Lady by Nicola E Sheridan. Nicola writes: Sabra Westwood is a human Chameleon (essentially a genetically modified human who is able to camouflage due to the presence of chromatophores in her skin). This is an extract from Sabra’s book, ‘Memoir’s of a Warlord’s Love Slave’.

My stomach lurched into my throat and my heart constricted as if garrotted. I turned, and there he was, the Warlord, Cain Dath. He stood in loose, faded blue jeans, bare feet, and another snug white tee-shirt. The dark tan of his skin contrasted with stark beauty against the cloth, and I noticed the muscles in his neck tense as he obviously waited for my response.
‘No,’ I croaked, all too aware that I was naked and, due to my nervousness, was camouflaging badly.
A smile eased the line of his lips and he let out a slow breath, as if he’d been holding on to one. Like a gentleman, his gaze stayed locked on my eyes, not once flickering to my breasts and lower body that were randomly fluctuating in colour.
‘Why am I here?’ I asked, raising one hand to try and cover at least my nipples, and lowering the other to cover my shamefully bushy and colourful pubes.
Without answering, the Warlord uttered a spell and a loose silken wrap appeared in a shimmer of magical ions in his hands. It was as rainbow-hued as me, and as light as air. ‘Here,’ he murmured, and stepped toward me. The silk loosened and he extended it to me, as if expecting me to step into it and allow him to wrap it around me, like a lover might. Instead, I snatched it from him and wrapped it around myself, cinching the ribbon tight around my waist to hold it closed.
He didn’t seem perturbed by my rudeness, if anything there was a slight movement in his eyebrow and a hint of amusement in his eye.
‘Why am I here?’ I repeated, feeling a little stronger now that I was somewhat covered. Yet his presence was so unsettling. Just as in the bar, my body seemed to react to his. Horny, traitorous, lustful and dirty thoughts cart-wheeled through my brain.
The Warlord stepped closer, and at this new proximity I could smell him. His scent was an olfactory assault of magnificently sensual proportions. He was spicy and exotic, less like perfumed cigarettes and more like pure magic. There was power in his scent, and Lord it was delectable.
Before I could stop myself, I was in his arms, moulded to him like putty. He raised a hand and tilted my chin so my lips could meet his. I’d wanted this from the very first moment I’d seen him, and despite the fact he’d kidnapped me and slaughtered my travel companion, I waited breathless for his kiss.
That one kiss was more than I could have hoped, or ever dreamed–and it doomed me to six months of captivity. His lips met mine in an explosion of desire. We kissed, experimenting, tasting and exploring. Though eEvery fibre of my brain told me I should stop, that what I was doing was dangerous and extremely wrong, but my body and, dare I say, my heart convinced me it was right.
Without moving his mouth from mine, the Warlord’s searching hands slipped up my sides and discreetly loosened the ribbon that held the wrap closed. The silk, smooth as it was, slipped from my shoulders and fell to the floor like liquid. He caught my gasp in his mouth and soothed me with his hands, stroking my back, my hair, my bum. Yet instead of soothing, his hands seemed to arouse me even further. They dusted my body with exquisite sensations and left me weak-kneed and wanting. I didn’t fight when he scooped me into his arms and walked back from the balcony toward the mosquito-netted bed. I couldn’t have fought even if I’d wanted to, which I’ll confess here and now, I certainly didn’t.


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