Release Day Blitz ~ Erica Hayes

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clip_image002Demon Chained
Shadowfae Chronicles

Book Five

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Book Description:

A powerful djinni, enslaved to her lamp. An undead thief, bound to a cruel demon’s whim. A passion that will outlast death itself…
A dark, delicious urban fantasy romance from the author of Shadowfae.
Jewel is a djinni of the lamp, an enchanted slave, bound to her owner by dark magical cravings she can’t resist. She burns for freedom, and when her lamp is stolen—by Tam, a hot and dirty bad-boy thief—she vows to be rid of her new master at any cost. Even as she plots Tam’s demise, the lamp’s dark fascination makes her long to claim him as her own.
But the last thing Tam wants is a spellbound djinni who can’t say ‘no’. Cursed by a demon to suffer living death, he’s tormented by undead longing for pain, pleasure, any sensation he can get. To have this exquisite, besotted Jewel at his bidding is pure torture… because Tam refuses to succumb to her magical allure.
Not when he knows she can’t truly be attracted to an ever-dying freak. And not when he’s already on a mission from his cruel demon master: capture and deliver one djinni…
Warning: this novel contains a feisty magical heroine, a besotted fairy best friend and the hottest wise-ass dead-guy hero in town.

Excerpt:

In seconds, I crystallized. My bare feet hit carpet that was streaked with dim moonlight. Dusty grey curtains swelled with warm breeze. The place smelled of blood, sticky and salt-drenched. I couldn’t see anyone.

My skin prickled. I’d expected bright lights, laughter, gloating, that kind of thing. Usually people giggle and caper about like fools when I appear, before they find out about the moon and the french fries.

But this time I’d appeared in dim silence, alone.

My eyes adjusted, and the shadow of a bed emerged. I wasn’t alone after all. A man, naked, fit and golden-skinned. His dark hair was a tangled mess. Curling thorns were inked up his arm and over his shoulder. He stirred, lifting his face from the pillow, fighting long black strands away before he even opened his eyes.

Recognition speared under my skin like a needle, and I groaned, disbelief mingling with irony. They had to be kidding me. Owned by a crazy vengeance-obsessed corpse?

My thoughts twirled in crazy circles. How did he get my lamp? And how did he know my name? They needed my name to own me. I hadn’t told him. Hadn’t said a word . . .

Except in my dream.

But that was crazy. How the hell could a dead guy eavesdrop on my dreams?

Someone had cornered him since we’d met at the club, by the looks of the spidery red bruise across his kidneys and the dark blood leaking from his nose onto the sheet. Still, he looked great naked. Lean tight legs, smooth back, cute butt. Not that I noticed.

Inwardly, I sighed. This is what happens, see. They claim me, the magic switches on, and poof! I’m all romantic and girly for a while.

I’d get over it.

I kicked the bedframe to rattle it. “Wake up, genius. Where’s my lamp?”

He jerked fully awake, scrambling to turn over and crawl away from me at the same time. His dark eyes fixed on me, and widened. “Jesus, you’re really . . . what the fuck are you doing here?”

Okay. Yeah. He looked even better from the front. That soaping I imagined before? All done, his skin clean and glistening with just a hint of mysterious darkness to keep you interested. He had a nasty gash on one hip, but who cares? I couldn’t help letting my gaze slip a bit lower. Very nice.

He didn’t seem to mind being naked in front of a suddenly-appearing woman, either. Maybe he liked guys. Damn. I wouldn’t even be able to seduce him into letting me go. What I’d give for a glimmer of persuasion right now. I couldn’t, not of my own accord. My power wasn’t mine to play with anymore.

I tried it, just in case. Reached for my magic, a shimmer of seduction or a trick. Nothing.

Damn it. I scowled, in case he saw me staring. “Don’t play dumb. You called my name, remember?”

He halted, leaning back on his elbows, staring at me with a crease in his forehead like I had three noses or something. “What are you on about, lady?”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, already. Brass lamp, long neck, about this big?” I held up my hands a foot apart. “Sound familiar?”

He stared, and swallowed, his throat jerking. “You’re kidding.”

“You’re telling me. Look, just hand it over, release me and I’m gone, okay? No harm done.”

He sat up, dragging that gorgeous black hair into a twist and draping it over his shoulder out of the way. “Look, lady—”

“It’s Jewel. You know that. Enough with the ladies, it doesn’t fool me.” I wanted to look at him, to watch him move, and it made me mad. He was trouble, pure and painful, I didn’t care how bad and dangerous and downright tasty he was.

“Jewel, then. Whatever. I don’t believe you, all right? Kane sent you to screw with my mind. Or you’re just some crazywoman stalking me, or something. Either way, you can get out of my house right now.”

Nah, nah. He didn’t say the magic words. If they don’t say my name, I don’t have to. “I can’t do that. Not without my lamp.”

He lifted his hands, a mocking shrug. “Fine. Stay here. Just shut up and let me sleep.” And he grabbed the sheet and made to roll himself back into it.

I tugged it away. “Ask me for french fries.”

He laughed. “What?”

“Ask me. Say, ‘Jewel, go get me some french fries’.”

He shook his head, a tolerant smile. “If I say it, will you get the hell out of my bedroom?”

“Sure will.” I just hoped something was still open around here. I couldn’t charm french fries from the air any more than I could charm anything else. Sure, I can turn iron into gold or make things disappear, but that’s not the same as creating something out of nothing. That can’t be done, at least not by me. The only way I can get something new is to take it away from someone else. Like I said, I’m a collector, a fetcher of baubles. I swap things. That’s all.

“Great. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He jammed the pillow against his curled arm and flopped down onto it. “Jewel, darling, if you’re not busy and it isn’t too much of a hassle, can you please leave me the hell alone for a few seconds and go find us some french fries?”

God, what a sweetie. I only wished I could stay to watch his face when he saw what happened next.

clip_image004About the Author:

Erica Hayes was a law student, an air force officer, an editorial assistant and a musician, before finally landing her dream job: fantasy and romance writer.

She writes dark paranormal and urban fantasy romance, and her books feature tough, smart heroines and colourful heroes with dark secrets.

She hails from Australia, where she drifts from city to city, leaving a trail of chaos behind her. Currently, she’s terrorizing the wilds of Northumberland.

Website: www.ericahayes.net

Twitter: www.twitter.com/ericahayes

Facebook: www.facebook.com/ericahayes.author


Guest Author ~ Erica Hayes

 

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A fallen angel with a mission and a medical examiner who’s lost her faith are fighting for their souls in a glittering, near-future Manhattan…

Blind faith is for fools. That’s what Dr. Morgan Sterling believes. And she’s going to prove it by curing the zombie plague ravaging her city’s slums. She’s certain it’s not a sign of the End of Days, but a nasty disease—until an angel appears in her morgue in a flash of glory.

Luniel is not just a fallen angel. He’s a powerful warrior sworn to fight evil in hopes of a chance at redemption. He’s after the demon princes who are stealing the seven vials of holy wrath which, when perverted, will unleash eternal hell on earth.

To stop the plague, Luniel needs Morgan’s help, and her faith. But Morgan believes science is their salvation. If the zombie plague is a demonic curse—and if Luniel is true—he’ll have to prove it. Even if he loses his heart to true love or his soul to Hell…

Excerpt:

Today, of all days. It was Thursday. The world couldn’t end on a Thursday.

Luniel, the fallen angel, crouched on the shore of Liberty Island in a hot August sunset with blood lapping at his feet. It licked the rocks beneath his boots, clotting. All the way across the bay, to the firelit Brooklyn shore and the gleaming blue arcs of the Narrows Bridge, what used to be water gleamed sick and scarlet.

The angel sniffed the air, and tasted copper. A dead fish bobbed belly-up, pale white flesh and fins. He poked the warm liquid with his finger, and licked. Yeah. Definitely blood. And human. There were seaweeds and algae that sported the same fleshy color. But Luniel had tasted enough blood in his three thousand years to know this wasn’t algae.

He straightened. No breeze flicked his long black hair back. In his human guise, he had no wings. He scanned the distant shore with sharp blue eyes, further than any human could see, and his nose twitched. Hunting. For something. Anything. A trick. A college prank. A fish slaughterhouse. Overflow from some industrial accident, one of the factories along the built-up Jersey waterfront spilling toxic chemicals.

Not a sign of the Apocalypse. Not God’s wrath.

Across the bloody bay, Babylon’s glittering towers razored the red sky, the decadent sprawl of skyscrapers and spires they once called Manhattan. The sunset flashed on steel and mirrored windows, glaring in competition with neon lights and rainbow columns of virtual advertising. Even from here, Lune’s preternatural ears detected buzzing electrics, the faint digital beep of comms towers, snatches of conversations, and in his magical angelsight, the city glowed, green with the living, pulsing energy of human souls.

Helicopters lasered their searchlights through smoke and heat haze, sweeping over burned-out housing projects and shining condominiums. Traffic noise hummed, the groaning subway, horns and engines and wailing sirens, police and fire and the ever-more-urgent ambulances. At the height of summer, plague had stolen into the Empire State like a homicidal houseguest, more frightening than California dengue and deadlier than arctic flu, and people were afraid.

But terror happened in Babylon, the world’s richest, rottenest city of sin. You only had to look at the shining glass spire piercing the sky, one hundred and ten stories high, built back in wiser days where a pair of ill-fated twin towers once stood. The world had turned ever more rapidly to shit since then, but Luniel still remembered that day well. That day, angels dived for earth, fiery wings flashing, but it was too late. Even the fallen, like Lune, were powerless. The people screamed and died and thought the world was ending.

Horrific? Yeah. But the monkeys had no idea what they were in for.

What the end of the world would really be like.

Luniel shivered. This wasn’t over yet. It couldn’t be.

He dug into his jeans pocket for his phone, and speed-dialed. Trendy SIM implants in your ears were all very well for humans, but fast-healing angelflesh rejected biotech. The irony was pleasing and bitter. “Come on, Ithiel,” he muttered. “Answer your rotted phone.”

Ithiel was still on heaven’s A-list, but he and Lune stayed in contact. If anything was going down, Ith would know. But voicemail kicked in, his brother’s laid-back laughter: I’m busy. Leave a message. If I give a shit, I’ll call back.

Luniel swore—even after centuries, defiance felt good—and waited for the beep. “Party never stops upstairs, huh. Call me, asshole,” he said, and ended the call.

A week. Ithiel hadn’t answered for a week. And now this.

It could be stupid luck. Coincidence. Random events colliding like flotsam.

But after two millennia spent dealing out heaven’s wrath, and going on another one walking the earth and seeing it all from the other side, Luniel was wearily certain that what goes around, comes around to kick you in the balls.

Coincidence was bullshit. Nothing was random. Everything happened for a reason, and fate was one dastardly, despicable motherfucker you just couldn’t avoid.

But inexorably­—inexplicably—the blood lapping at his feet made him angry.

Defiantly, recklessly, sinfully angry.

 

clip_image002About the Author:

Erica Hayes was a law student, an air force officer, an editorial assistant and a musician, before finally landing her dream job: fantasy and romance writer.

She writes dark paranormal and urban fantasy romance, and her books feature tough, smart heroines and colourful heroes with dark secrets.

She hails from Australia, where she drifts from city to city, leaving a trail of chaos behind her. Currently, she’s terrorizing the wilds of Northumberland.

http://www.ericahayes.net

http://erica-hayes.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/ericahayes.author

http://www.twitter.com/ericahayes

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2922003.Erica_Hayes