Demon Lover, Ebook available Now from Samhain Publishing; Paperback available now from Samhain Publishing Rumplestiltskin is not his name and this hunk’s no gnarled old goblin. Fairytale Fantasies, Book 2 In his quest to land her a rich husband, Gwyneth’s father has gone one step too far and bragged to the king’s steward. Now she faces an impossible task: spin a room full of straw into gold by morning, or their lives are forfeit. She despairs, until a black-garbed figure offers to solve her problem for a price. One kiss. He returns the second night, and the third. With each sensual encounter, the stakes escalate along with her attraction to her mysterious visitor. Then he claims the ultimate price—her child—and she realizes too late she’s made a deal with the king of the Underworld.

From the moment he kisses her, Ragnorak knows Gwyneth’s child will be a worthy heir for his kingdom. But with each touch, he wants more. He wants her to be queen of his strangely beautiful world—and for her to want to stay. But that will mean giving her the ultimate weapon—the power of his name.

Gwyneth has only three chances to drive her demon lover over the edge of bliss. But when the stakes suddenly shift, it’s Ragnorak who stands to lose everything…

Warning: This book turns a well-known fairytale upside down, and involves hot sex with a villainous demon—or is he…?

Reviews:

"A beautiful twist to the classic tale of Rumpelstiltskin. Gwyneth and the Demon who helps her is written with such intensity it pulls at your heart strings. Brilliant, I was unable to put the book down..." - 5 Stars, Emily, Ecataromance Sensual Reads

"a magical journey between the realm of Earth and the Underworld... Both heroine and hero surprised me in the end... I highly recommend this fairytale read." - 4.5 kisses, Sin, Two Lips Reviews.

"an intriguing and beguiling twist on the old, but well-known fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin. And, I must confess, Rumpelstiltskin never packed as much heat as Ragnorak...a mysterious character, whose feelings are exposed in delicious slow motion."

"an excellent, hot read with a meaty plot and enriched characters." - 4 Nymphs, Cipher Prose Nymph, Literary Nymphs.
 

Excerpts:

“Is your name Charles? Oliver? Harold?” Gwyneth’s pulse pounded, and she shivered despite the fact she held the precious trump card up her sleeve. Her husband King Midas, the courtiers and soldiers all looked on, frozen as they had been from the moment the devil arrived in a thunderclap and a puff of sulfurous black smoke. Literally frozen by some magic force that thickened the air around them.

“No.” The evil being’s deep voice reverberated through the room, sending a chill down her spine and making the hair on her nape prickle. As menacing as a towering black thunderhead threaded with crackling lightning, the dark-shrouded figure dominated the throne room of the castle. Gwyneth longed to throw back his hood and behold his face just once.

“Brandon? Sylvester? Archibald? James?”

Why was she playing this dangerous game when her child’s very life was at stake? She should simply spit out the horrid name her spy had overheard and win Brea’s freedom. A demon from hell couldn’t break a deal, could he? Surely he was bound by his word.

“No. Are you prepared to concede, to pay me what you owe?” A cool voice came from the dark depths of the hood.

Gwyneth exhaled slowly, trying to rein in her racing heart. The warmth of victory swelled through her, but she willed herself not to show it with a smug smile. No point in angering her enemy.

“Is your name perhaps”—she paused and licked her lips—“Rumplestiltskin?”

There was dead silence in the room for the space of three heartbeats. Brea stirred in her cradle and gave a soft gurgle. Gwyneth glanced from the hooded figure to her husband, whose frightened gaze was riveted on the intruder.

Gwyneth knew she was correct. She’d received an eyewitness account of this cloaked demon waltzing around a campfire, gloating over her inability to guess his ridiculous name.

“Is your name Rumplestiltskin?” she repeated.

The dark being strode forward, stopping only a few paces from her and the cradle.

“No. It is not.”

***

“Are you an angel?”

This time, she felt the breath of definite laughter stirring the hair on the top of her head. “Not that. I’m more likely to be a demon. Have you finished?”

She stared at the empty floor, clenched her stiff hands, the fingers cut and bloodied from handling the rough straw. “Yes,” she whispered, and gazed up at him in wonder. “Yes, I have. I’ve done it. You’ve saved my life.”

He held out his hand in silent command. When she laid her own in it, she saw that her fingers trembled, perhaps in relief, perhaps in fear. She rose to her feet.

“Then let me take my price.”

Something jolted in her stomach, spread wickedly lower. She nodded.

His hand slid up her wrist to her left shoulder. His free hand tipped up her chin. She felt the coolness of his leather glove against her heated flesh.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

She did, though determined to open them later on and see him. The soft fabric of his hood brushed her face—was he still wearing it after all? His breath stirred her cheek, her lips, and then he touched her mouth.

His lips were warm, unexpectedly soft, caressing hers until they parted and then sank on her mouth. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to catch fire. Flame licked down between her thighs, and yet apart from the light pressure of his gloved hands on her shoulder and chin, he only touched her mouth.

She liked to be kissed. Gladness flooded her. She relaxed, letting her lips part under his, and his mouth sank deeper, opening hers further. She gave a tiny gasp as his tongue dipped between her teeth, as if he were tasting her. The flames below began to burn.

Her savior explored her mouth with gentle, aching care. His tongue flickered around hers as if inviting it to dance, and daringly, she let it, sliding it along his in a caress that aroused even greater pleasure.

Gwyneth was lost in her first kiss.

When he released her mouth, she couldn’t suppress her mewl of disappointment. She remembered her eyes were still closed after all, and snapped them open. Twin points of light gleamed at her as he drew back. His face was all darkness and shadows because he still wore the cowl. It didn’t seem important. What mattered now was that he no longer kissed her, and she wanted him to quite desperately.

Reaching up, she slid her hand inside the hood and touched the skin of his face, warm and a little rough from the stubble on his jaw. His breath seemed to hitch and then still. She wanted to speak, to ask for another kiss, but couldn’t find the words. Instead, mutely, she lifted her face inside the cowl, seeing only tempting shadows and hooded eyes, until she found his lips with hers and sighed with pleasure.

For an instant, his were perfectly still. As though she’d stunned him. And then it all changed. One arm swept her hard against his body, and she gasped into his mouth as it bore down on hers. Everything about him was hard now, his purposeful, demanding lips, his chest against her crushed, pebbled nipples, his muscular thighs against her hips, his cock straining against her abdomen.

Excitement soared. Especially when his hand swept down her back over the swell of her buttocks, pulling her even closer to his cock. She could feel its outline growing against her and wanted more. His questing hand slid up her body, over her hip and waist and the side of her breast. Pangs of delight twisted through her. Moaning, she moved against him to allow him access, and his palm closed over her breast.

Sweetness suffused her body. Without meaning to, she pushed into his hand and felt his gloved thumb caress back and forth over her hard, pleading nipple.

And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. His hands on her shoulders held her away from him. Her swollen lips felt cold. Her whole body trembled with reaction, although it was some comfort to hear the swiftness of his breath. And yet she still couldn’t see his face.

He said, “You paid more than my price.”
 

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