Bless the Beasts
Claire is more confused and uneasy about the apparent interest of her new neighbor, Sarik, than flattered. He may be the epitome of every female's desires from eight to eighty, but she knows damned well the same couldn't be said for her in relation to men. As suspicious as she is that his motives have nothing to do with a real attraction to her, though, she discovers she's completely unable to resist his allure.
Word Count: 61,393
Genre: Dark Fantasy Romance
Rating: Erotica. Contains graphic, explicit sex and language, bondage, oral sex, forced seduction, sexual mastery, and violence
Available formats: PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)
© Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, February 2008
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
It was the time of day Claire liked best. The library was quiet. All of the patrons had departed and she was alone with the books. Her books. That was the way she thought about them anyway, and to a degree they were. She was the librarian. Except for the two young women that helped her out during the afternoons when the library was at its busiest and, of course, their patrons, the library and all its wealth of books were entirely her domain. She was the one who kept up with the books, took care of them, and primarily the one who made certain they were kept orderly. There wasn't a single book in the library, she was certain, that hadn't passed through her hands at least once in the five years since she'd taken over the position of librarian in the tiny library that belonged to the tiny hamlet of Folkston.
Loading the last of the returned volumes to her cart, she pushed the book trolley from behind the returns desk and headed to the nearest shelf. She was tired, but pleasantly so. The hour or so that it took her to set the library to rights after it had closed was her time to unwind before she went home to her empty house.
Well, not entirely empty. She had her cats, of course. It was almost a prerequisite, she mused with a touch of self-depreciating humor, for a woman living alone to have a passels of cats. She certainly hadn't set out to. The old tabby had come with the quaint little Victorian she'd bought when she'd moved to Folkston. To his way of thinking, she supposed, it was his house. The realtor had told her he'd belonged to the woman who'd owned the house before her and advised her to get rid of him since he was such an unpleasant and unsociable old man, but she hadn't had the heart.
He wasn't pretty or cuddly by any stretch of the imagination, but she'd felt that he'd earned the right to live out his days in the house he considered his home. He'd obviously seen more than his fair share of battles. One ear was mangled, as if the tip had been chewed off. A section of his tail was missing and a scar ran across one eyelid that hadn't healed as it should, making it seem as if he was always squinting one baleful, yellow eye at her. He'd never allowed her to touch him or even come closer than three feet of him, but he was always at the back porch demanding to be fed at meal times, watching her suspiciously as she doled out his food, letting out a low, threatening growl if she encroached any closer than the distance he allowed.
She called him Tom. She thought of him as the old bastard, though—for a number of reasons—mostly because the old bastard had impregnated her prized Abyssinian, damn his hide! She'd had no notion Sugar was even old enough to think about humping. It seemed that one moment she was only a kitten herself and the next, while she was still trying to decide whether to have her fixed or breed her so that she could sell the pure breed kittens for a little extra cash, a mommy with three half Abyssinian half mongrel tabby kittens of her own.
She still hadn't figured out how the old bastard had managed to get his dick into her darling Sugar—the little slut! But she strongly suspected it was Sugar who'd figured out a way to get out to old Tom, not Tom who'd figured out how to get inside to get hold of her precious. She was a clever girl, very good at opening doors, which was why Claire always made sure the doors were locked when she left for work. She didn't think Sugar could unlock doors, though, just turn the knobs, which meant it was still a mystery as to how the pair had managed to get together for romance.
Regardless, she now had Sugar, Old Tom, and three kittens—which she hadn't had any luck finding homes for.