Hi everyone, I have with me today a spanking new author, Angelique Voisen. She’s here to tell us all about her awesome new release Taming Icarus, over on bookstrand.com.
Angelique Voisen writes fantasy and paranormal erotic romances with a particular focus on LGBTQ pairings and ménages. Stories set in exotic worlds with blades, kinky magic and happily-ever-after endings.
In the day world, Angel writes for a trade magazine. She is a recovering red bull addict, an alt rock fan, a keto advocate and currently lives in Singapore. You can contact Angel at email@example.com or visit her blog at www.angelvoisen.blogspot.com.
Here’s her new book: Taming Icarus
[Ménage and More: Erotic Fantasy Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/F, light bondage, fisting, HEA]
In the alternative world of New Furor, there are the rubes and the Spectrum Wielders, gifted men and women capable of wielding great magic with jewels. Chris Skinner, Icarus, unfortunately belongs to a Spectrum class born and bred for service. She also belongs to an abusive Spectrum Wielder who would do anything to avenge her dead sister, even if it destroys Chris and herself in the process.
Chris’ owner leaves a reckless trail of vengeance, triggering a confrontation with two of the city’s powerful enforcers. Gus Terrel and Iris Donovan are unlike any Spectrum Wielders Chris has ever met. They only have one interest, and its not taking Chris’s owner into custody. They want Chris badly, but Chris distrusts their intentions. Why anyone would want second-hand property is beyond her.
Acquiring their third is harder than Gus and Iris ever imagined, but they would do whatever it takes to make Chris exclusively theirs…no matter the cost.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Chris checked her watch again. Sighing, she looked gloomily out of the windows of the café. It wasn’t time yet, although her coffee had turned cold and the half-eaten tuna sandwich on her plate had become stale. She let out a huff of impatience.
Damn Madeline for making me wait and for leaving me alone to negotiate with the Enforcers sent by The Collective, New Furor’s special police force.
Chris wasn’t much of a talker. As Alexa once said, all she was ever good for was using her fists and being a human shield. But Madeline was not Alexa and would never be Alexa.
For a start, Alexa wouldn’t resort to something as stupid and suicidal as landing a few Enforcers in the hospital. They were only a couple of Emeralds and Sapphires—nothing a Violet Wielder and her Familiar couldn’t handle—but it was only a matter of time before powerful Enforcers would put them down.
Chris looked at her watch. That was it. She had enough of waiting. She stretched her long legs before rising. One of the servers gave her a pointed and withering look. It was the same one that asked her if she was ordering anything else. That was about a good few hours ago.
The glare was actually refreshing because Chris was used to being gawked and stared at all her life. There was nothing remotely remarkable about her. She was lean, dark haired, and dark skinned, but no one usually gave her a second look if not for the telltale marks of her class. Usually she’d cover them under her clothes, but it was the middle of summer, and the heat levels in New Furor became intolerable this time of the year.
In her haste, Chris brushed shoulders with someone else on her way out. She saw the paper cup fly, the brown liquid sloshing in the air. Cursing, she fumbled for the cup before it could do more damage. A few droplets of hot liquid stung her hand, but she caught it just in time before the cup tilted over its owner.
“Sorry,” Chris mumbled, holding out the cup.
“That was a pretty impressive balancing act if I say so myself. Right, Gus?” The speaker did not sound the least bit angry, although Chris was sure some of the coffee had spilled on her, too.
Chris finally studied the speaker. She was shorter by a few inches than Chris. She looked like she was in her early twenties and was dressed in a bright floral-printed summer dress—at least Chris thought it was bright. Reds weren’t particularly good with colors. Chris always had the terrible habit of wearing mismatched socks.
One thing was certain though. The woman was strikingly beautiful. She had the kind of face that made you want to turn your head and look at it again.
“What are you leering at, Familiar?” The frosty tone came from the man standing beside the woman. His arms were crossed, the muscles in them bunching and shifting.
He was slightly taller than Chris and while he was paddled with muscles, intelligence stared back coldly at her from a face made of sharp angles. There was a certain air about him too, which told Chris he was no rube or someone to be trifled with.
“I wasn’t leering—” Chris injected, stopping short when she recalled his words.
This man called her Familiar. He knew what she was. Not many rubes did, and not even some Wielders that belonged to the lower and weaker end of the Spectrum, like the Carnelians or Topazes.
Before her instincts to run or fight kicked in, the woman accepted the cup she was holding out. The mere brush of her fingertips ignited a sudden spark, like a small ball of electricity. It didn’t stop there. It coursed past her fingers and sent a delicious tingle up her arm.
Chris breathed deeply. Violet Wielder. Why wasn’t she able to feel it before? Her eyes darted to the rest of the woman. She may not be able to see most colors, but she could usually sense the strength of a Spectrum Wielder. The trinket carrying her amethyst stones must be somewhere. Perhaps on the chain hidden in her dress?
“If you’re thinking of a public confrontation, I’d advise against it. Unless you like the taste of the concrete so much.” The man’s voice was deceptively calm, his eyes unmovable as iron.
Anger rose inside of her, comforting and familiar. Chris held his pale eyes. She was practised in the art of dealing with other predators and looking away was as good as admitting defeat. Gods of New Furor, she hated the lofty look that had settled in his eyes.
Was this man really that confident he could take her?
Shoving aside her rising anger so she could think more clearly, Chris realized with a pang that the answer was yes. Chris was dreaming if she thought she stood a chance against these two. Even with Madeline at her back, they’d have trouble with this pair.
“We’re not here to fight. I’m Iris Donovan. This is my partner, Gus Terrel. We’re High Enforcers for The Collective.” The woman smiled and held out a hand, the bangles on them making a soft clink at the movement.
Chris initially dismissed them as plain silver bangles, then saw the dozens of unobtrusive small amethyst stones worked into them.
If she drew on all those power reserves, she could kill me with one decisive blow.
The thought was a terribly uncomfortable one, but Chris was reluctant to shake her hand. In fact she was hesitant to touch any part of Iris Donovan. While every inch of her handsome partner screamed predator, Chris was certain—although she didn’t know how—that Iris was the real threat.
“Perhaps its best we continue this elsewhere,” Gus said, his voice smooth as silk. The aggression he’d displayed earlier was melting and folding over, leaving the creases on his face smooth once again.
Chris could imagine that voice making other women shiver. Lesser women.
“Iris—” Chris began.
“You don’t need to speak,” Iris told her. The chilling authority in her voice quieted Chris. She spoke again before words could form on Chris’s lips. “Your shirt is in the way. It has to go.”
Iris gripped the hem of her shirt and violently yanked it up. From the warehouse incident, Chris knew that a frightening aspect of Iris’s personality lurked under her usual smiling and teasing persona, but it was still a sight to see. Something inside her throat tightened. There was just something alluring about the fire and lack of mercy in the other woman’s eyes. Gods of Furor, she was becoming wet just thinking about it.
Mouth dry, Chris let Iris tear the shirt off her.
“Isn’t that much better?” Iris did not wait for her answer.
She grabbed Chris’s shoulders and shoved Chris against the door again. There was a slight ache when her back hit the wood, but before Chris could ponder why the pain thrilled her a little, Iris resumed what she was doing.
Without the annoying obstruction of fabric, her body was even more aware of Iris’s confident and roaming hands. Hands that were usually so gentle had become firm and heavy, hell-bent on exploring every inch of her. Iris’s own powerful, domineering violet energy mingled with every press, imprinting itself on Chris and making her skin tingle as every inch of her roused. Mine, Iris’s hands seemed to whisper. Mine.
Chris shuddered. She could voice no resistance. Every part of her agreed with those hands.
It was a slow and terrible tease, and it was becoming very hard for Chris to concentrate, especially with Iris looking at her intently and watching her every reaction.
“I want you to look at something, Chris,” Iris spoke, but Chris could barely follow her words.
She was still dazed from the kiss and from her tormented body. What she wanted was for the other woman to continue. To fondle her breasts, maybe slip in between her legs. Hell, her underwear was soaked by now.
Iris looked amused. Her hand grasped Chris’s hair and directed Chris’s attention to another direction. Gus now stood in front of them. Chris helplessly looked up his still slick body at the hard muscles of his chest.
Her eyes then widened. She didn’t realize he had a tattoo of his own. The intricate scales of a serpent curled over his left shoulder and coiled around his waist. Around it bloomed delicate, small flowers. The flowers reminded Chris of the storm of violet petals of Iris’s assault spell. Were the flowers a reminder of his partner?
But it was not his chest that Iris was pointing at. It was his hard and fully erect cock. The towel that covered his waist was nowhere in sight.
When he saw Chris looking at it, he smiled. “You want this in you, Familiar?” he asked bluntly.
To tell the truth, Chris didn’t really have many positive sexual experiences. Sex was an add-on, a quick distraction whenever her previous owners were bored. It never used to mean anything. Until now.
She wondered if it was her own desire that made her nod in agreement, or if it was also amplified by Iris’s desire as well. The three of them were inextricably bound now, bound in an indescribable and profound way than she had never had with her other keepers, and it was about time Chris stopped running.
“He’d like it if you begged him for it,” Iris informed her. She was still pressed against Chris. Her small and clever tongue licked the folds of Chris’s ear, while her hand found her nipple ring. A sharp and sudden tug made Chris grasp.
“Please,” Chris managed, groaning when Iris pushed one knee between her legs.
“Good. Because I want to fuck that mouth of yours,” Gus said. His pale eyes never left Chris even when Iris withdrew from her and he helped his partner up.
Chris watched them, unconsciously aware that she had risen on her knees. Impatient, Gus grabbed a fistful of her hair, bringing her forward. She was strangely impatient herself too, and opened her mouth to take him. When the head of his cock went in, her gag reflex rose, but she kept it down.
Chris was pleased when Gus let out an appreciative rumble above her. Encouraged by her enthusiasm, Gus used her hair as a handle, guiding her as she continued to suck and occasionally lick at the splendid and meaty length of him.
“That’s rather impressive,” Iris remarked by Gus’s shoulder. Chris was briefly distracted by her remark, but Iris only returned her look with a fond smile before turning to kiss Gus.
The sight of the two of them only made Chris eager to please Gus. Her red energy brushed against their emotions, initially overcome by the intensity of the desire there, but eventually getting used to it. Her own energy didn’t feel like an outsider looking in. It easily melded into theirs like it always belonged there.
Taming Icarus buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/taming-icarus