Samhain Publishing Ltd Weblog

Gimme some sexual healing...

We’ve all read them. You know the romances I’m talking about: sweet, spunky, hymen-packing ingénue enchants jaded, too-handsome, oversexed rake. Was a time when I gobbled those things up like popcorn, couldn’t get enough.

But when I began to write my own stories, somehow the plucky virgin heroines were nowhere to be found. In their place was an eclectic assemblage of hired killers, slaves, mercenaries, thieves and whores. And the heroes populating my little universe, though frequently too handsome for their own good, were often unseasoned, even naïve, and not always so experienced with the bed stuff.

My beloved healer, Aru, embodies these qualities, and then some. Barring the novelty that is the virgin hero, Aru is possibly the least sexually experienced romance hero ever. Conversely, Viera, the woman who wants him, is a former prostitute who found much to enjoy in her old vocation, and even more to love about her new one.

You see, Aru heals by channeling the sexual energy of his patients, or—if those patients are too ill or badly injured—a willing surrogate. Viera, whose sexual energy exceeds that of any he has known, has been acting as his surrogate for months.

It isn’t hard to see that something’s gotta give, and soon. One sexually aggressive, take-charge woman + one poor sap clinging to celibacy by the atoms on the tips of his fingernails + one working relationship steeped in sex = one heck of a seduction. One thing’s certain: you can only push a 1200 year-old celibate dude so far before he finally goes all explody and someone’s bodice gets ripped.

Duck under the lintel for an excerpt!

~~~

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Viera turned back to the stove, pushing pans around without purpose. Aru’s gaze was a palpable weight on her back, not unpleasant, but unnerving.

“Inella is much improved,” he said at last.

Viera closed her eyes and tried not to be disappointed. What did she expect? A declaration of love and devotion? Just because her world had irrevocably changed last night did not mean he would feel the same. Hadn’t she seen it time and again? No matter how a man was moved by moonlight, it was business as usual when the sun rose. Clearing all trace of emotion from her face, she turned. “She still has pain in her ribs.”

He fled her glance, seeking safety behind his cup of jaffha. “Another session then.”

Her stomach clenched, equal parts anxiety and anticipation. “When?”

“This afternoon, I think.”

“I’ll be ready.”

His brows drew together over the rim of his cup. “Actually, I thought you could take Mai and the children out while I work today.”

She kept her face carefully mild, even as the pain of his rejection flowered in her breast. He didn’t want to draw from her. He didn’t even want her there to assist. “All right,” was all she could manage.

His eyes flicked to her, then away. “Inella is well enough, she doesn’t require a surrogate,” he said reasonably. “But the mother and the children will only be a distraction, or worse.” He picked at his food as if his appetite had abandoned him. “Would you talk to Inella first? Let her know what is involved, so that it will not come as such a shock?”

“All right,” she said evenly. Everything he said was true, of course. Inella was nearly healed, and Viera would be more help in keeping the woman’s family out of the way, but that didn’t make it sting any less. She thought about how they had parted last night and could not help but regret the indifference with which she had dismissed him. She hadn’t felt indifferent. In that moment of repletion, every cell in her body had yearned toward him until it was all she could do to lie back down and not throw herself into his arms. She had a purpose, though, to guide her. She could draw him with sex, but holding him would require something more, something deeper than carnal weakness. All she had to do was withhold that something and wait for him to realize he wanted it. Then she would have him, even if it destroyed them both.

For a moment, he looked like he might say more, but then he clamped his lips shut and scowled into his jaffha.

Viera turned back to the stove, clutching her purpose like an anchor.