by Dianne Hartsock
GENRE: Erotic Romance (M/M)
Betrayed by a lover, Jamie rents an isolated cabin on Lake Huron, wanting only to be left alone. Instead, he is pulled from his solitary existence as an artist and tumbles headlong into the legend of Saint Nicolas.
As a young man, Nicolas accidentally killed a man intent on murdering three children, only to have the man’s malicious spirit rise up against him. Fleeing through the centuries from the Krampus, the evil troll-like creature that dogs his steps, Nico finds refuge with the young artist who takes him into his home and bed. But Jamie has questions. Who is Nicolas, and why does the Krampus want to destroy him?
When the Krampus begins to torment and torture anyone Nico comes in contact with to punish him, Jamie’s life is put in danger. And Jamie isn’t sure whether he can help Nico defeat his nemesis or if he’s merely a pawn in the Krampus’s game.
Jamie raised his face, took a breath of the cold air. Sleigh bells in the distance caught his attention, and he turned, finding the dark outline of a huge building behind him, perhaps a church, though it could easily pass as a castle, all square lines and bluff face. Without anywhere else to start, he walked the couple of blocks to the church. A pale moon was rising, and he looked with awe at the massive structure shimmering with frost as he approached it.
The parking lot was deserted at this hour, and he sat on a nearby bench, his body beginning to shake as exhaustion returned. Maybe eating would help. He studied the almost severe front of the church, moaning with pleasure when the sweet juice of the grape he’d popped into his mouth burst on his tongue. He ate them ravenously, interspersed with the sharp bite of cheese, savoring the heady mixture of flavors as if he’d never tasted them before. Funny how hunger could do that.
He ate every crumb and was licking the trace of sweet grape juice from his fingers when a low chuckle startled him, and he clutched his chest, heart pounding.
“Sorry, my dear, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Piter. Jamie closed his eyes, fighting the flash of terror. It would do no good to run. Deep breaths. The fear and pain that had seized him from his time in the basement slowly receded, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his coat sleeve. When he had control, he opened his eyes. Piter stood over him, hands on slim hips. Jamie wanted to smash the mocking smile from his face.
A wicked glint sparked in Piter’s green eyes. “Miss me?”
“Go to hell.” Jamie unclenched his hands with effort and braced himself, knowing the next few moments would be unpleasant with his practiced tormentor. Piter continued to loom over him, staring at his face, and Jamie dropped his eyes. Get on with it.
Piter’s amused laugh made him shiver. “I didn’t expect you to recover so quickly, yet here you are, dressed and having a repast. I have to remember to use you harder next time.” He straddled the bench, putting his head on Jamie’s shoulder. “That lush body of yours is stronger than it looks. Who knew such sweet curves and rosy skin could endure so much? I’d love to push your limits. Would you scream for me, Jamie? Beg for release from the pain you secretly crave?”
Jamie suppressed a shudder when Piter licked up his neck, nibbled his ear. Jamie’s voice sounded hesitant when he spoke, making him wince. “Where’s Nico?”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Dianne grew up in one of the older homes in the middle of Los Angeles, a place of hardwood floors and secret closets and back staircases. A house where ghosts lurk in the basement and the faces in the paintings watch you walk up the front stairs. Rooms where you keep the closet doors closed tight at night. It’s where her love of the mysterious and wonderful came from. Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, and anything else that comes to mind.
She now lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Dianne says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which kindles her imagination.
Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dianne-Hartsock/e/B005106SYQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1361897239&sr=8-1
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/Dianne-Hartsock-Author-107985445959828/
NICOLAS buy links:
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/nicolas-dianne-hartsock/1123118053?ean=9781634761888