The last in a fabled line of otherworldly aristocracy, the Lords of Satyr are born to wealth, power, and a talent for sensual delight that mere mortals only dream of. Commanded to marry, these passionate men will travel to Rome, Venice, and Paris—and along the way will explore desires both shamelessly wicked and blissfully divine…
He Had Sworn To Take A Proper Wife. He Hadn’t Bargained On Meeting His Match…
Nicholas looks very much like what he is—the handsome, successful heir to a vineyard in Tuscany. But Nicholas is much more, for he is one of the last in an ancient line of satyr men. And the dying king of ElseWorld wants him not only to marry, but to wed one of the king’s own daughters—a half-human, half-faerie woman unaware of her heritage. Nicholas won’t shirk his duty to produce heirs to guard his race’s legacies, but he never plans to make his bride his only lover. A satyr’s sexual hunger and sensual skills are legendary. One woman will never satisfy him.
Or so Nicholas believes until he meets Jane. As spirited as she is fey, as beautiful as she is innocent, she is nevertheless determined to make her new husband hers alone—and she’s eager for him to teach her every deliciously carnal secret he knows…
Read an Excerpt
Below is an excerpt from the prologue of NICHOLAS. The prologue was originally placed later in the book, but one of the last things I did in the revision process was to move it forward. I think this was an important choice because it now sets the moody, sexy tone of all that follows in the book. It also shows Nick and his brothers for the alpha males they are, reveals Nick’s strong loyalty to the Satyr legacy, and hints at his inner struggle. —Elizabeth Amber
Excerpt from NICHOLAS, of an erotic scene in a secluded glen on Satyr land ringed by statues of Bacchus, nymphs, fauns, and maenads…
The first shaft of moonlight dispelled the murk, drenching the lords in its silver, revealing their nakedness. Almost in unison, they were seized by cramps that rippled cruelly over their taut bellies. They bent low, their features contorting into grimaces. Raw groans that were a blend of pain and pleasure erupted from their throats as the last physical change of the Calling night occurred.
Nicholas, the eldest, recovered first.
His eyes made a quick survey of the glen. It was protected, he knew. Strangers never came here. When Humans wandered too close, they were repelled by a force they didn’t understand. He willed himself to uncoil and stand, relieved the turmoil had passed. He hated the feeling of helplessness that always accompanied the Change. He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, even for so short a time. There was too much at stake.
It would be dangerous for anyone to see him or his brothers like this. He was a freakish creature now, fit only for a harem or brothel that catered to those with a taste for the bizarre. Just the sort of place he might frequent, were he in a particular sort of mood.
He touched himself, slid a thumb and two fingers along newly awakened flesh from root to crown. His thumb found the drop of moisture in the crease at his tip and idly smeared it.
The last Change of Moonful had gifted him with this new shaft of bone and sinew—this second cock ripped from his own flesh. It extended high and hard from his pelvis, and twitched with hunger. Only slightly smaller than the enormous cock already rooted just below in his thatch, it craved relief as much as its twin. He soothed it—stroking. Mimicking the welcome it would soon find between female thighs, as he waited for his brothers to undergo a similar change.
At his command, ribbons of swirling mist spun in the glen, then stilled, shapeshifting. Iridescent forms rose from the vapor and solidified into Shimmerskins—insentient females who had serviced the Satyr since ancient times. Their soft hands caressed his newly furred flanks, offering comfort.