Devil’s Mountain (Book #1 of the Devlin Legacy)
By Bernadette Walsh
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Horror
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Book Description:
You will hate Him for all that he's taken, but you will love Him. God help you, you will love Him.
Mary
Devlin accepted her fate years ago, to serve Slanaitheoir, the mountain
spirit who saved her ancestors from the Irish Famine. The hauntingly
beautiful woman submitted to His every caress, His every humiliation,
but He’s gone too far by threatening her family.
Mary’s
daughter-in-law is now an unwitting pawn in the fickle spirit’s game.
Mary must challenge her fate and that of all future Devlin women, but
Slanaitheoir is the most powerful being in the land. And when part of
her still yearns for His touch and love, how can she fight him and win?
**Warning - Excerpt Contains Adult Material**
Marcie, one of the Wanna-Be Manhattan Moms who had also experienced
success, lived a few blocks away on East 85th Street. A group of
successful Wanna-Be Manhattan Moms had formed a little Upper East Side
sorority. We would go to Mommy-and-Me classes, play dates and at times
babysat for each other. I’m not sure exactly what happened to the
not-so-successful Wanna-Be Manhattan Moms. None of us mentioned them.
Marcie agreed to babysit Aidan while I went to my acupuncture
appointment at the Yorktown Natural Fertility Clinic. Bobby refused to
go back to the New York Infertility Institute. In fact, it was all I
could do to convince him not to use condoms. “I’ve got my beautiful wife
and my beautiful son,” he said in a sing-song voice whenever I raised
the topic of another child. “That’s all I want. That’s all I need.”
Why wasn’t that all I needed?
The first few months of Aidan’s life, I was completely satisfied. I’d never been so happy or imagined I could be so happy.
But then, the old familiar niggling started. I’d take Aidan in his
stroller through Central Park and see a woman pushing twins in a
stroller. Or a mother holding the hands of a small boy and a girl. And I
would get that sour taste in my mouth, the same one I had tasted for
years whenever I saw a pregnant woman.
And so it began.
I
couldn’t very well steal a vial of Bobby’s sperm and take it with me
back to Dr. Feinberg’s office. But we had, somehow, managed to conceive
Aidan on our own. Perhaps with some Chinese herbs and acupuncture we
could conceive again. Marcie swore by acupuncture, and after she had
been thrown out of two Manhattan IVF clinics she tried traditional
Chinese medicine and conceived her own miracle baby. Why couldn’t I too,
conceive a little miracle baby with the help of magic teas and shiny
needles?
Just one more, I thought to myself as I opened the
heavy glass doors of the Yorktown Natural Fertility Clinic. “Just one
more miracle. And then. Then I’ll be happy and content.”
I promise, I silently swore to God, the universe or whoever else might be listening to my thoughts.
*** *
A row of needles lined my bare stomach. They were in my ears, on my wrists and even
between
my toes. The acupuncturist, a hippy-looking woman in her mid-fifties
with frizzy red hair, twisted the needles between my toes once more
before she lowered the lights and left the room.
The first five
minutes were always the hardest. Inevitably at least one of the needles
would burn. Dr. Hippy-Dippy said that meant it was working. It was all I
could do not to rip the offending thing out.
I breathed in and
out slowly, and tried to focus on my breathing, on anything rather than
the needles. As I lay in the darkened room, with only the sound of a
small fan to block out the traffic from Second Avenue, my shoulders,
which had felt like they were jacked up below my ears, relaxed. I
continued my purposeful breathing and closed my eyes.
Someone
took my hand. I opened my eyes and was no longer on the table, but
clothed in a long red robe and standing in a forest. And the most
beautiful man held my hand.
“My love,” He said, His voice harsh and guttural. And somehow familiar.
A lone ray of sunlight made its way through the heavy woods and shone
on His black hair. His pale skin glowed and His jade eyes glittered in
the low light. They drew me in.
Without another word He led me to
a roaring fire outside of a cave. The fire was hot, and a small bead of
sweat formed on my upper lip. The man unbuttoned the red robe and took
it from my shoulders. Underneath I wore only a thin sheath of white silk
that hid nothing from His probing gaze.
I should have been
embarrassed, but the hungry look in His hypnotic eyes stirred a fire
within me. With a finger, he gently followed the lines of my plump, full
breast.
“So ripe,” He whispered in a harsh rasp. “So fertile.”
That word hit me like a hard slap. I turned away. “No,” I choked out, “I’m not.”
He pulled me to Him, His lips mere inches from my own. His musky breath filled my
nose.
“You could be.” His lips covered mine. At first soft, like the finest
silk, but then more forceful, moreurgent. My passion soon met His and I
couldn’t help but run my fingers through His magical hair as he devoured
my lips.
He tore the sheath in two and it fell away from me,
leaving me naked. His green gaze bore through me, and it was almost as
if I could feel the very cells of my body change. My breasts felt
heavier and skin softer, my lips fuller. It was as if He transferred His
own beauty to me. I ran my hands across my face first, and then my
breasts, my nipples, taut and tender. Instead of being embarrassed, I
reveled in my newfound beauty.
My skin was hot but His hands
were hotter and they almost burned my flesh as they explored every inch
of me. Every touch brought both pleasure and pain.
I pulled at
His golden shirt, eager to see all of Him and He seemed surprised by my
daring, my need for Him. He smiled, like a wolf about to catch His prey,
and ripped the silk from His body as well.
This nameless man
pushed me onto the soft grass beside the fire. Starting at my toes, His
scalding tongue sucked and bit me. As He traveled up my calf and along
my thighs, I trembled, not with fear, but with a hunger I’d never felt
before. A ravenous, ancient hunger.
He spread my legs and His rough, scalding tongue explored me, possessed me. Before I could climax, He stopped.
“Don’t,” I begged. “Don’t stop.” His animal gaze bored into me. “Are
you mine?” I threw my head back and arched my back, inviting Him to
enter me. “Yes, yes. Go on!”
“Are you mine? Will you give me what I want?”
My skin was on fire, dying for His touch. “Anything,” I moaned.
A terrible smile contorted His beautiful face. “Don’t you want to know what I want?”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I rubbed myself against Him. “Anything. You can have
anything.”
“I want you to have my child. I want to share the blood with you.”
I don’t know where I got the strength, but I pushed Him off me. He lay on his back, more
surprised
than hurt. His eyes darkened, but before He could get up I pounced on
him, lowering my swollen sex onto Him, allowing Him to fill me. I ground
into Him and felt Him grow even larger within me. I rocked back and
forth, overcome with ripples of orgasms as I fucked Him, as hard as I
could. Like a woman possessed.
Like an animal.
About the Author:
I have always been a bookworm and had always meant
to write a novel “someday.” You know, when I won the lottery and could
live in beach house and look out onto the water and feel inspired. Four
years ago I decided to stop waiting for my winning lottery ticket and
sat down and started writing in between work and family obligations, I
piled the words on top of each other until they formed sentences,
paragraphs, chapters and eventually a book. My first book, a
contemporary romance, Gold Coast Wives, was published in November 2011.
The House on Prospect is my second novel. The first book of my
paranormal trilogy, Devil’s Mountain -- Book One of the Devlin Legacy,
was published in June 2012. While I’ve hopped around genres, all of my
books to date have a common theme: strong women handling what life
throws at them the best way they can.
Connect with Bernadette:
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