Q&A with Wyvern

The city of Venice has been rebuilt on the far planet of Cydonia. Despite the uneasy presence of the mysterious, only part-human Sand Riders who roam the Cydonian deserts, The Black Carnival has become a celebration of beauty and lust known all over the Galaxy.

Ivory Blake, a young artist from the conservative Central Planets, is thrown in the middle of the festivities to illustrate a new book about the Black Carnival. As a guest of the glamorous art collector Lukan Løvensgård, her professional assignment quickly turns into a highly emotional exploration of sensuality in all its most varied aspects, from BDSM to romantic love, passing through obsession, fear, jealousy and passionate, tender complicity.

He laughed and lifted a hand to caress my chin. He brushed a strand of hair back, tucking it behind my ear, and then he put down his glass, brought both his hands behind my head and undid the lacing of my mask. I didn’t say a thing. As the mask was taken from my face, I felt more naked than I had ever felt since coming to NeuVenedig, and yet I felt no uneasiness at all. If anything, I began to unwind and took a deep liberating breath. I smiled at Laz’law and shyly, lightly caressed the tiny scales on his cheekbones, the rougher, thicker scales on his eyebrows, the beautiful strange mask that could never be taken off.
“Lovely,” said he and I at the same time, and we laughed.

“So beautiful,” we said again absurdly, improbably, in unison.
It was uncanny. It was fantastic.

He grinned widely. I am sure that he had quite some practice at being adored. I was not used to be called beautiful; men in the Central Planets were too correct and formal, or, perhaps, just plain shy, for such wildly romantic statements. I had been called pretty, cute, sweet and even hot, but never beautiful. 

Obviously, I blushed. 

Lune put two fingers around my chin to turn my face to him. He looked at me tenderly and softly kissed my temples, my eyebrows, my cheekbones, all those places that he had never seen before. I closed my eyes, smiling a small beatific smile as I went more or less limp in his arms. I heard them both laughing, but I didn’t open my eyes. 

Laz’law took the almost empty glass from my hand; I heard him getting up and walk off towards the bar, but by then Lune was kissing my mouth in intense, hot, tongue-and-teeth kisses, and I was quite distracted. I felt Laz’law sitting back on the sofa and lifting my skirt up. He took off my tall, soft suede boots and began caressing my knees, just under the edge of the skirt, then further up, running a flat warm palm along my legs. When his hand reached the naked skin of my thighs I shuddered with pleasure and finally broke the kiss, opening my eyes to look at him. 

He smiled at me, and kept caressing me in flat even caresses as if savoring the smoothness of the silk stockings and of my skin. Lune looked at him with a curiously affectionate smile, and then he said to me, “Come here.”

He pulled me to sit in his lap, and began kissing me again, running his searching lips on my mouth, my throat, my neck. I sighed, my head thrown back, quite abandoned in his arms, when I felt Laz’law standing up behind me. His warm hands began to massage my naked shoulders, as if to ease my nerves. I didn’t think I needed any easing, but his warm fingers seemed to unravel my back as if it had been knotted. I bent my head forward to invite his hands higher. He obliged; his palms rubbed warmly along my neck, crawled in circles on my skull, loosening my hair, then descended again. He caressed my tightly corseted breasts and sides. Then he lifted my hair out of the way and started kissing the nape of my neck and my spine, between my shoulder blades. 

I was melting like chocolate. 

I pressed my face in the curve of Lune’s throat, opening my lips to taste his skin. Laz’law kneeled on the carpet behind me, lifted the skirt up around my waist, and went on kissing his way down my back as his hands caressed my legs and then my buttocks. His breath puffed warm through the crisscrossing lacing of my corset, making me shiver in anticipation. 

I think I could have gone on like that forever, but after a while Lune sat up and moved further back on the deep sofa.

“Turn,” he whispered, pushing and pulling me around until I turned in his lap and sat facing Laz’law, who smiled, running his hands lightly along the inside of my legs. 

I relaxed against Lune’s body, my back on his chest. I parted my legs a bit, feeling wonderfully exposed, slutty and happy. Lune lowered the zipper of my corset and, as my breasts spilled out of their almost painful confinement, I sighed and put my arms up around his neck, turning his face down to mine, silently begging him to kiss me again. 

He was more than willing to comply, and kissed me deeply, hotly, his lips covering mine entirely, his tongue lashing down my throat, circling in my mouth, searching and teasing, pinning my head irresistibly against his shoulder. He kissed in fierce, carnivorous kisses, in surprising, delightful contrast with the quiet courtesy of his manner and the sweetness of his smile. 

One of his hands had taken hold of my left breast, and he was squeezing my nipple, softly at first and then harder, rolling the tender skin between his strong fingers until it almost hurt. He smoothly pushed his knees between mine, and spread my legs wide with his, opening me to Laz’law’s kisses. My breath was quick and shallow in his mouth. 

I could feel Laz’law’s rough, scaly, metal studded brows brushing on the skin of my thighs, his warm mouth open on the almost transparent lace of my panties. His tongue was even warmer, and he ran it flatly on the damp lace a few times before untying the two twin bows that tied the panties around my hips. When my sex was naked and open before him, I pushed it upward towards his face, with a tiny pleading moan. When he stooped forward, I began rocking against his rough chin; he laughed softly and started lapping me in brief quick laps, retreating out of my reach after each lap, until I strained and arched my back for more. 

“What a hot little thing she is, indeed,” he said, and Lune broke the kiss again to nod and laugh. 

“Told you,” he said.

They both stared at me, and I suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious at the thought that they had been talking about me, although it was quite natural, I guess. I sat up a bit straighter, closing my legs somewhat. Laz’law smiled up at me, caressing my thighs, murmuring something unintelligible but soothing while kissing my knees apart again, but in that moment I felt Lune’s hands gently pushing me off his lap. I stood up and he carefully unbuttoned my skirt, which slid down my hips with a silky rustle. I kicked it off, and Laz’law, still fully dressed, still on his knees on the carpet, pulled me toward him and pressed his mouth hard on my sex. 

That is when the last of my shyness went overboard.

In defence of quiet heroes
I admit to having a tendre for quiet heroes.
Maybe it’s because when a man opens his mouth more than twice in a row inevitably he ends up talking about either cars or football. Maybe it’s that I spend way too much time with horses, and dialogue is not their strongest point. You can whisper to horses, and even talk to them, but they seldom answer in words, although they may throw in a chuckling nicker from time to time.
Maybe it’s that all the guys I really liked in my life were of the taciturn persuasion and I really cannot figure a hero prattling away like a damn radio all through a book.

Maybe it’s just the mysterious allure of a man full of long silences and quiet gestures. It puts so much more emphasis on his eyes, smiles, hands. Maybe I tend to associate chatty guys with car dealers (cars again!) and sport commentators (football again!).

No, no. If I need a hero, I’ll take a quiet man any day, thank you very much.
There are of course, caveats. You may never know what is going on in the head of a quiet hero. It would appear that Black Carnival’s hero, Lune, may be too quiet for some. Despite my charming editor’s best efforts to draw him out, Lune remained stubbornly quiet.

So here I am, to offer a little insight in this silent hero’s life. Being so silent he refused to appear himself, of course, but I have leave to disclose a few facts. So, ask away.

Q- Well, reading this excerpt, I have to ask, what is a Sand Rider to begin with?

A-     Sand Riders were artificially bred over more than two hundred years by the Cydonian Institute of Genetic Research. On a planet freshly terraformed and still challenging to human settlers, the genetically enhanced Sand Riders served as scouts, hunters and rangers. In these easier times they still lead a rather rough and roaming life in the desert, divided, by law, from the human inhabitants, with the sole exception of the Carnival festivities, which have a certain character of Thanksgiving, a reward from the human settlers to the efforts of the Sand Riders in the colonizing of Cydonia.

Q- But these Sand Riders, what do they look like?

A-     Why, mostly like humans, really, except that they tend to be on the athletic side and have this scaly half-mask around the eyes.

Q- Scaly? Like a fish?
A-     More like a snake. It’s a genetic marker left in by the Institute to make them instantly distinguishable from humans. It also has some practical purposes, but I won’t go into that for now.

Q- So, Lune… how do you pronounce his name, again?
A-     Lu-nay. Not Loon.

Q- Ok… so he doesn’t live in Neu Venedig?
A-     Not outside the Carnival festivities, no. He just spends some weeks in Neu Venedig each Carnival, like a holiday. He is based in the Cydonian desert’s capital, White Sands, although he spends several months a year in the desert itself.

Q- Doing what exactly, if I may ask?
A-     Exploring, and botanizing. He is a biologist by profession, and a horse trainer by passion. That may account for his quiet, soothing manners and low, sexy, whispering voice.

Q- But all this being quiet and silent, One wonders, does he have some secret?
A-     Well, something mysterious is going on, that is for sure. These Sand Riders have been demanding independence for a while now, and there is indeed a suspicion that our Lune maybe involved in some very delicate negotiations requiring utmost discretion. This will stay between us, understood? A man can get in trouble for this sort of things.

Q- So, he is some sort of politician as well?
A-     No, no, I would not say that. Rather an idealist.

Q-I see. Well, let’s talk about important matters now. I see from the excerpt that he has a lover, a young fellow named Laz’law, right?

Q- So, what’s he doing with Ivory? Carnival dalliance or true love?
A-     Eh, that only the end of the story can tell. But we are talking hero, here, not asshole. Of course since humans and Riders live strictly separate lives, Lune is understandably hesitant to get involved in a serious relationship with a human girl.

Q- And Laz’law, does he have something to say about Lune’s interest in Ivory?
A-     My personal feeling is that Laz’law, while he may probably turn out to be jealous as hell of other men, is rather more tolerant of Lune’s female love interests. Not to mention the fact that he seems to stray out of strict fidelity himself, on occasions. Besides, he appears to be quite happy to share Ivory with his lover, and he looks pretty smitten with the girl himself. No, I would not worry too much about Laz’law. Actually he’s a fine guy.

Q- Someone suggested that Lune seem to like Laz’law better than Ivory. Is that so?
A-     Well, the two relationships are really hard to compare. Lune and Laz’law have been together for a decade, and know each other very well, while Lune is still tiptoeing around Ivory and their complicated situation. It goes without saying that he is more readily and openly intimate with Laz’law than he is with Ivory.

Q- We know that Lune is a talented lover…
A-     Ahem, apparently he is, yes.

Q- Is he also a romantic at heart?
A-     We have private intelligence that he has been known to write love poems.

Q- Will they be published?
A-     Go figure. But he is, as I said, very private. We may have to steal his notebooks to see them!
e-mail: meetingivory@yahoo.co.uk
I am on Facebook and Twitter as Katherine Wyvern and @KatherineWyvern and my blog is:
Black Carnival is available from Amazon.

And from Evernight.

Excerpt Tuesday


Dr. Erin Miller’s life was going great; for the most part, anyway. She was single, had a career she loved, and a cherished circle of friends, but something was missing. Wanting to find her soul mate, she’s gun shy after her boss took advantage of her feelings for him during her first year as an intern. Although she dates occasionally, she always breaks things off before her heart gets involved. When a mentorship with the Chief Pediatric Surgeon becomes available, she couldn’t be more thrilled. Maybe this is just what the doctor ordered! She decides to pursue it, confident she will be chosen for the coveted role of mentee. That is, until the handsome and charismatic Dr. Kyle Reynolds decides he wants the mentorship as well.

Kyle Reynolds has lost everything including his wife and daughter. With nothing left in his life worth living for except his job, he sets his sights on the new mentorship position with single-minded determination. The only obstacle between him and his goal is Dr. Erin Miller.


“Can I cut in?”
She jerked her head in his direction and shot him a dirty look. Kyle’s pulse raced as he glanced over her body. She wore a short skirt and halter-top. Her clothes flattered all the right places on her. She’d finished the look off with some sexy heels.
The other man’s hands slid to her hips, pulling her closer. Kyle couldn’t miss the surprised expression that appeared on her face. Or how he wanted to rip the man’s hands from her hips at that moment.
“I believe it’s her choice who she dances with.”
“Listen, you had your chance before I asked her,” Dave barked back.
“Hello, I’m right here and can speak for myself. I’m not some toy.”
The other guy walked off in a huff, spitting something about jealous boyfriends. Kyle pulled her close. She flattened her palms against his chest. The heat from her hands seared him, as if there wasn’t a shirt as a barrier between her touch and his bare flesh.
“I never said I wanted to dance with you.”
“The hell I will.” She took her hands off him and turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

Kyle placed her arms around his neck and molded her body to his. Like a switch, the arousal he’d seen in her eyes earlier flared to life.  A sensual voice echoed around them as it blared from the speakers. She took a ragged breath before she moved with him.
She rolled her hips into him, and he pulled her closer, allowing no space between them.
His right hand trailed a slow path down her arm; goose bumps rose on her satiny skin. Kyle looked at Erin as his hand trailed down to her hips, her gaze on his mouth. He could tell what had happened earlier had affected her as much as it had him. He planned to kiss her before the night ended, but for now, he’d enjoy having her in his arms, keeping her wondering when it would happen.
She drew her focus to his eyes. “You’re arrogant.”
“Yes, and now we have that out of the way, let’s move on, because it’s not going to change.”He bent closer to her and inhaled the cinnamon-orange scent that was only her. Je tu vous embrasserai, donc à fond que vous oublierez votre nom, votre sucre.”
 “Stop, doing that! I haven’t a clue what you said.”
He moved closer to where only she could hear him. “I said I’m going to kiss you, so thoroughly you’ll forget your name, Sugar.” Kyle moved back and watched her cheeks flush pink as she contemplated what he’d said. 

If you loved Bound To Protect, then you’ll like Road to Recovery.  Erin and Kyle from Road are in Bound, so why not see how their love story went, and see a glimpse into Chad and Katie. You can purchase Road to Recovery from Pink Petal Books and Kindle

Six Sentence Sunday

This week, let’s take a look at Katie and what happening to her. Will she be safe?

“My, my, you’re a naughty little thing. What, no kiss for me?”

His words sent a cold shiver across her body. He was going to toy with her like a cat with a mouse before killing it. Really, she shouldn’t expect anything else. He loved to torture her. 

You can purchase Bound To Protect from Evernight PublishingKindleARe, and Bookstrand. If you would like to join in with some awesome authors for Six Sentence Sunday, go here.

Q&A With Arya Grey

Q&A with Arya Grey 
Alyssa: So, Arya how long have you been writing?

Arya Grey : I’ve been writing for most of my life, but it all started in High School, where I was lucky enough to attend one based on the arts. My Creative Writing teacher was and still is my biggest inspiration. So for nearly 12 years I’ve dabbled, but only started writing books 3 years ago. Time passes when you’re having fun!

Alyssa: What made you pick writing horror?

Arya Grey: Horror describes me best. Just ask those who know me 😉

But on a serious note, I like to scare, and be scared. It puts a different spin on what could be a mundane story, and a good scare never hurt anybody! It’s good for ya!

Alyssa: Are you the kind of author who needs a certain drink or snack nearby when writing? If so, what is it?

Arya GreyNot typically, but if I’m exhausted then a milky coffee and some Cadbury’s chocolate fingers do me nicely. I try not to snack when I write because I pig out when I’m not at my computer! 

Alyssa: How has your life changed since becoming published?

Arya Grey: Well, I suddenly seem to have no time for anything! Ha!

Things are still very much the same. All that’s changed is my workload, and how I spread out my available time. I love to write, and so I don’t let anything get in the way of that.

Alyssa: What can you tell me about your newest release?

Arya GreyWell, what started as a fun exercise with a crit group, soon turned into soon-to-be published Anthology, that spans across 3 books and 12 authors! ‘The Blood Bar Chronicles’ follows 12 writers who meet at a bar, and by the end of the night their lives all change drastically.

I am the 4th story (‘Perfect Timing’) in the first book, entitled “The Blood Bar Chronicles, Book 1: The Alphas”, where you’ll meet Josie McNair, young, self-conscious and looking for a little excitement in her life. Well, she gets what she asks for when she meets the gorgeous, but strange, David Malm.  

Josie felt strange. A tingling sensation started inside her thighs and traveled up her spine. She gasped and barely h
eld back the scream of ecstasy that threatened to erupt. She crossed her legs and peered over the back of the booth, just as Noelle and Ana were doing, and saw a tall man with long sandy-blond hair and sea-green eyes. She wanted to ravish him
 and she had absolutely no idea why. Every woman in the joint had their eyes set on him, except for Arielle, who just looked confused.
A firm hand grasped her wrist
 and the only thing Josie saw as the world came to a stop around her, were blue-green eyes. Then she was spun into a vortex of wind and colors so bright she had to close her eyes for fear of being blinded. She shrieked at first, but calmed when warm hands spread across her waist and held her tight. She had to try with all of her strength not to throw up the glass of wine she’d drunk too eagerly.
After what felt like an eternity
 she finally felt ground beneath her feet. A cool, calm voice with a soft American accent spoke to her. “Are you okay, sugar? You look a little pale.”
Josie opened her eyes
 and they met with an almost bare chest. The skin was smooth and a splattering of blond hair lay across it. She pushed back from him and looked up. He was smirking.
“What the hell?” She shrieked

and looked around. She was in an old house with antique furniture, yet it smelled like a new car. “Where am I?” She gasped as another wash of ecstasy rolled through her.

I’ve brought you to my house where you’ll be safe,” he said, still smirking. His eyes almost sparkled in the lights of the dining room. “Would you like a drink?”

I’d like you to tell me what’s going on. What exactly am I safe from?” She demanded. 

Well, babydoll, I wish I knew. What I do know is that I couldn’t leave you there salivating.”

I…I feel…” She moaned. She sure as hell wasn’t going to tell this fit-as-fuck stranger that she was close to having an orgasm, all because of some pretty boy. Now, the confident man in tailored clothes standing before her… he was her every fantasy. Hell, she was sure she’d written him into one of her books. She wondered what he looked like under his clothes, but snapped out of it.

You and every other gal in that joint.” He went to a small bar, poured whiskey into a glass, and held it up to Josie. She shook her head in refusal, still trying to keep the wine down. “He must have some sort of call.” He sipped from the glass.

How did we get here? And where exactly is here?” Josie asked and sat back against the long table. Every sense was on high alert. Did someone slip something into my wine?

Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” His voice, low like a purr, sent shivers down her arms. She had hoped she would meet someone at the end of the night, maybe even go back to their place, but this was not what she had imagined. Of course, the man standing before her was pretty much her description of perfect, but something didn’t feel right.

What about my friends? Are they alright?” Josie’s voice shook as she said the words out loud, but his next words relaxed her.

Your friends are fine. I assure you.” He pressed his lips to the glass once more and walked up to her. Josie held her breath, hoping that her amazing make-up was still intact, and watched his every move. Despite his height he walked with a certain grace, and his eyes told of the many things he’d seen in his life. “And you’re okay, thanks to me.” He traced his fingers lightly down her shoulder. Goose flesh broke across her pale skin, and she let out her breath.

Who are you?” She asked, leaning into him.

My name is David Malm.” He smiled.

Excerpt Tuesday with Raven McAllan

This week I have Raven McAllan with her book To Please A Lady.

To Please a Lady by Raven McAllan


When your lovers are lovers themselves and want you to help them make the perfect triangle, what do you say? “Persuade me,” of course!
Unconventional and happy, Hermione is in the enviable position of having not one but two lovers to attend to her every need. That her lovers are lovers themselves only adds to the equation.
Berry and Ran feel it’s time to make all their various twosomes into one splendid threesome. Now all they have to do is persuade Hermione!
Being men, they are too impatient to wait for her answer.
Being a woman, she isn’t going to be pushed, shoved, or coerced into saying anything until she is good and ready. Patience is a virtue, one her men needed to get.

Rosy nipples showed through the material, their darkened surrounds providing a guide to their presence. Lower, the shadow of dark curls hid her pussy, or was it that they showed the way to where it waited, impatient to feel the hard, usually impatient cocks that it welcomed? Oh, the joy of having no pretense, being able to be honest and open about her enjoyment of the act of lovemaking these last months, had been so satisfying; those to come promised to be even more so.
Tying the lowest set of ribbons, barely inches below those curls, Hermione could not control her compunction to sooth the throbbing concealed within. Her hand slipped beneath the ribbons and touched. She closed her eyes to feel with her senses. Ah, that first swirl through her curls and then the sheer pleasure of touching her now wet lips, finding her fingers coated with the evidence of her desire. The intensity of her feelings shot through her like lightening, and she gasped. Not from her arousal, however.
A swath of velvet covered her eyes.
As she caught her breath, soft hands feathered across her nape as the material was fastened. Then her hair was pushed to one side, and she experienced the press of lips, kissing where the ribbons from the velvet knot brushed her back.
“My love, you started without me? For shame. How shall I punish you?”
Her breath quickened. Her punishment had started! Knowing what those elegant hands were capable of and unable to see how they explored and excited her to ever more passion was punishment enough. As her tormentor well knew.
“You were late, my lord; the play started on time, alas without your attendance.”
A soft laugh greeted her remark. “Ah, Mione-mine. I would be lost without you in my life. Shall I begin Act Two?”
Oh, if it so pleases you, and three, four, and five. However, never would she allow her eagerness to show.
You can get a copy of this great book at Amazon, Breathless Press and Bookstrand

Six Sentence Sunday

This week I’m continuing from the same scene as last week, so let’s see what Chad and Katie are up to.

“Believe me, if I’d been in your bed last night…” Chad brushed his knuckles against her arm as his lips came closer to her ear. His voice dropped to a sexy growl, “…you’d be so satisfied from the sensation of my cock inside you, you wouldn’t be able to walk or stop smiling.”
Tingles swirled around where his knuckles brushed against her arm. Katie drew in a breath as images of them rolling around in the sheets danced across her mind.
“I bet you liked the thought of that.”
“Oh, please, I’d never be with you in that way. You’re not my type.”

You can purchase Bound To Protect from Evernight PublishingKindleARe, and Bookstrand. If you would like to join in with some awesome authors for Six Sentence Sunday, go here.