Oh, the allure of bad boys. Don’t get me wrong, heroes are lovely. But there’s just something about bad boys that women can’t resist, and I am certainly no exception. I don’t know what it is about them that holds me so hypnotically spellbound, but I do know each and every one of them holds a very special place in my heart. Allow me to grant you a peek at my secret list.
Do you remember your first bad boy crush? I do. His name was Snake Plissken. He walked onto screen for the first time wearing futuristic military-ish fatigues, prison chains and an eye patch. He spoke in whispered rasps and you just knew he was dangerous.
An even worse movie, who remembers that campy horror b-flick ‘I Come In Piece?’ Pick your alien, good or bad, didn’t matter. Gravelly voices, long trench coats, killing practically everyone unfortunate enough to happen across them.
Riddick in Pitch Black, enough said.
The Predator, 6-foot plus in height and so secure in his manhood as to stalk through not just one movie, but five—armed to the teeth and dressed in fishnet body stockings.
In movies, they are visually stunning, but in books they are even more so, tickling our cerebral need for a lover so strong, so powerful, so deadly that we can’t help but fall enthralled even as we wonder whether or not we’ll survive the sex. And yet, what a way to go.
Despite my long-standing love affair with the Lords of the Underworld (pick a lord, any lord), my lastest cerebral love affair has been with none other than Kresley Cole’s Lothaire. Oh, and he is so deadly—arrogant, handsome, charming, ambitious, deviant, and did I mention, a vampire driven insane by all the memories he’s stolen from those he’s…shall we say, sampled? What’s not to love about that?
Not a thing.
No, I am a hard-core bad boy lover, and when I discovered this blog hop, I just knew I had to be a part of it. Go. Don’t walk, run (yes, with computer in hand) and visit the talented authors offering up snippets of their very own bad boys for you to sample. Leave your comments to enter for chances to win free ebooks, chock full of heroes, anti-heroes and the bad boys we love to lose ourselves in. Every comment left on my blog will be entered into my own personal contest with the prize being an ecopy of Incubus Moon. So, allow me to offer you a sneak peek glimpse of my favorite bad boy of all. He is the incubus Scar. For four years, he held my heart and he is truly irredeemable.
Or is he?
* * * * *
“We were in no position to help,” Emen said, as if he could see the direction of her thoughts. “We were outnumbered. We have no shelter and you are vulnerable. Though I know you do not wish to be, Veda, you are much too important to risk, not even for the sake of that poor woman. I swear, I will hunt for her when we get back. I will find her if I can.”
Furious, with them as much as her helpless self, Veda threw up her hands. “I know, all right? I know.”
“Doesn’t change anything though, does it?” Scar asked, smirking. “You’d go running after them right now if we let you.” She glared until he barked, casting derisive laughter to the tree tops. Slinging her pack off his shoulder, he tossed it on the ground at her feet. “Go then.”
Veda bent to grab it, but Emen managed to snag the straps ahead of her.
“Stay,” he told her, shouldering it himself and turning his reproving scowl on Scar. “This constant bickering will bring nothing but the hungry Horde to investigate. You said there was a place we might den not far ahead?”
“If it’s not already occupied.” Scar studied her through narrowed eyes.
“We need to find it before it gets too dark.”
Shifting his sullen gaze to Emen, Scar must have agreed because he turned and started walking again. But after only a few steps, he snapped around and came back to her.
“Don’t,” Emen warned, throwing out a staying arm, but Scar knocked it aside.
He came toe to angry toe with her, catching her chin and jerking her back to face him when she tried to side-step around. “Tell me, infant, did you actually have a plan or was it all half thought out gut-fire bravado and stupidity?”
“Of course, I had a plan!” she snapped back.
“Fuck if you did.”
“I was going to rescue her!”
“They’d have caught you,” he scoffed. “They’d have thrown you over their shoulders and run, weaving a path of confusing scents through the brambles and brush, going just as far and as fast as they could make that bitch and her brats move, until they were sure I was no longer behind them…”
“And Emen,” Veda said stiffly, shooting him another hard look. “Don’t even try to say he would not come for me if he could, Scar. I know better!”
“Yeah, he’d come,” Scar smirked. “But it’s not him they’d be the most afraid of.” Then he thumped her on the nose. “And don’t make trouble where it doesn’t need to be.” He yanked her back when she tried again to push past him and walk on. “You didn’t answer my question. What were you going to do when they threw you down and began taking turns? Or didn’t you think that far?”
“I know what would happen!” She caught his wrist and tried to pry free, but he only tightened his hold until her increasing fury finally broke free. “I’d have spread my legs and pretended my eyes were every bit as hollow as hers were!”
His jaw clenched twice. “You wouldn’t know how.”
“I’m the harem prize of the Shadow and his Devil,” she spat. “They’ll believe I’m every bit as docile as I pretend, and they’ll relax. They’ll become complacent!”
Scar growled, his grip tightening on her arm. “How fucking complacent do you think I’d get, yeah?”
She opened her mouth only to close it again, the obvious answer not at all to her liking. “Eventually, even they have to sleep.”
As if speaking to a very small child, Scar said, “There were four of them.”
His tone much gentler, Emen added, “They will take turns standing guard throughout the days and nights.”
“For potential ambush from you or the Horde, yes!” Veda cried. “But not from two women they consider helpless and cowed!”
“That’s your plan?” Scar laughed at her. “To stand your own watch until you finally spy an ill-guarded moment and a forgotten knife?”
She lifted her chin. “That’s right.”
“Then you’ll steal it?”
“Hide it in the folds of your bedding, endure rut after fumbling rut until that perfect opportunity when, in the quiet of the night, only the weakest of the bucks remains awake. Then what? Will you slip unnoticed from out beneath whoever lies sprawled on top of you, cozy to him, pet your pretty cunt until the breeding oils are flowing and fragrant? Will you hold yourself open to him, showing him where his cock most wants to go, until his fear of the big male diminishes just enough for him to allow you closer?” Scar sidled in closer himself, bending his head until she felt the heat of his breath against her lips. His dark eyes bored into hers. “Will you hold yourself cold while he buries his face between your treacherous thighs, drinking you in like bitter water?” He tipped his head, his face hardening. “Nah, I’ll bet you make it taste as sweet as clover honey.”
Veda glared at him, shaking.
Reaching up, Scar caught an errant wisp of her hair and curled it between his fingers, giving an almost playful tug. “You’ll pull your stolen knife then, yeah?”
She swallowed hard, her throat feeling almost too tight to allow it.
“Plunge it into his back?”
She shook. “Yes.”
“Spear his beating heart and hope you can muffle the sound as his muscles spasm and push out his grunting cry.”
“That’s enough,” Emen said, but Scar’s smirk only grew and Veda’s shaking grew along with it, coiling inside her, becoming something dark and furious all on its own.
“He was gray, wasn’t he?” Scar lowered his head a few inches until his eyes were even with hers, staring into her as if he could read the answer for himself. “Yeah, that big fuck who ate your throat; I seem to remember he was gray. You didn’t get to kill him, did you? So now, our poor, weak, unlucky nomad is going to pay that price. You’ll make him feel that debt in every cold steel inch that you sink into him. Tell me, my pretty, venomous little infant—” Scar leaned in to her, his voice dropping intimately low, his breath caressing her cheek like the hand of a lover. “—will you twist the blade? Before you rescue your poor, defenseless Niva, will you stand with his blood dripping through your fingers, twisting the hilt until it lodges in his bones? Will you do it just to watch him writhe, to see the look in his wide, disbelieving eyes when he realizes he’s been killed by a mortal-born cock-sheath?”
Veda stared at him, but she couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She barely felt the tips of her claws cutting into the flesh of her palms as she clenched them, tighter and tighter, shaking and glaring, hating him—hating everything—in that moment with a depth of passion she had not thought herself capable of.
“Yes,” she hissed.
Scar closed his eyes briefly. “Ha,” he exhaled, savoring the honesty his viciousness had wrung from her before rumbling his soft mocking laughter. “That’s my girl.”