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LENGTH: Novella Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2004
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When Cerise Bordeaux stumbled into the accursed Hellsing wood in search of her missing sister, she never dreamed she’d be confronted by the fearsome vampire lord of legend, Daegon Erlansson.
But when he took her in his arms and arched her neck deeply for his kiss, it wasn’t fear for her life that consumed her. At his mercy in every way, Cerise must fight the dizzying rush of passion that assails her at his every punishment … his every kiss … if she is ever to see her homeland again. Rating: Contains graphic explicit sex and language as well as mild BDSM.
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"Five Ribbons! Margana de Winter has spun a passionate and sensual tale of the maddening loneliness of a Vampire Lord. I enjoyed the humorous play between Deagon and Cerise. The love scenes are well written and full of passion and tenderness. Cerise’s naiveté was enchanting and Deagon’s magnetism was enough to make any lady swoon. RED AS BLOOD is an enchanting Beauty and the Beast style tale with scorching hot loves scenes. If you enjoy complex interplay between characters both in and out of the boudoir this story is sure to please." Angela Waters, Romance Junkies "Four and 1/2 Hearts! This was a cute story, and Cerise is a riot. The excuses she comes up with are pretty inventive. The love scenes are HOT, and have a little bit of BDSM in them, with both of them enjoying themselves immensely. Great read!" The Romance Studio "RED AS BLOOD is an alluring tale that will bewitch readers from the start. Daegon is the epitome of male sensuality. His dark looks and seductive eyes all add up to one thing...carnal power. Cerise starts out her journey as an innocent but soon gains knowledge and experience that frightens her. Though Daegon doesn't take her virginity, he does initiate her into the world of deep, dark sexual pleasure. One thing that really fascinated me in RED AS BLOOD was the fact that they didn't make love until near the end. Sex is good, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's a joy to read the journey there and not the actual act. Morgana de Winter weaves a mesmerizing tale of love in RED AS BLOOD. Readers will be spellbound when they read Daegon's plight and Cerise's journey of discovery. For a quick read that will heat you up on a cold night, get RED AS BLOOD today." Sinclair Reid, Romance Reviews Today "Totally enchanting. Red as Blood is a remarkable follow-up to Ms. de Winter's previous novel, White as Snow. I didn't think any characters would be able to hold a candle to Bianca and Damian. Boy, was I wrong! Cerise and Daegon certainly hold their own; both are developed and heart-warming. I fell in love and cared deeply for these characters within moments of starting the novel. Equally amazing are the love scenes; they are filled with passion, eroticism and tenderness. Ms. de Winter is a mistress of her craft." In the Library Review "Four Angels! Morgana de Winter has a talent for writing love scenes. Like an appetizer warms you up for the main course, the sexual tension builds on itself so that the climax is even more satisfying! The reader can also sense the emotions behind the physical attraction, which makes it even more powerful. Although Red As Blood is a sequel to White As Snow, it stands alone very well. I highly recommend both and look forward to the third Bordeaux sister's story! Ms. de Winter has definitely made a fan of this reviewer." Fallen Angel Reviews "Dark, passionate and even humorous at times, Daegon and Cerise have comical exchanges with heat that smolders beneath the surface and adds lightness to the dark tale. Reminiscent of The Beauty and the Best, only hotter, Daegon is as enchanting as the classic Beast. Ms. deWinter pens a wonderful tale with expertise to her craft. She weaves romance in with humour, passion and self-discovery. Readers won't be able to resist the hearts of Daegon and Cerise, their inner strengths and their journey is a pleasure. One thing I found surprising is the final submission of lovemaking between the characters that is not rushed. While the sexual tension mounts, Ms. deWinter doesn't have her character fall into bed together immediately but weaves the story in first, bringing everything to the reader’s minds that is much more important. When Daegon and Cerise finally do come together, it’s enchanting, pleasurable and worth the wait. Red as Blood is tender, powerful and not to be missed. This is one of the best renditions of Beauty and the Beast I have ever read – it will be a hard act to follow for future spins on this tale." The Road to Romance
RED AS BLOOD
"Trespassers, especially beautiful ones, are violated. Survivors are lunch." Cerise Bordeaux stared at the man who had abruptly appeared before her on the forest path. There was humor in his voice, but his eyes gleamed with intent. She felt her heart flutter with a combination of fright and, god help her, excitement. He was as beautiful as the devil himself, and just as clearly a minion. There was no doubt in her mind that he was the vampire lord of legend, Daegon Erlansson. Cerise had anticipated encountering problems when she made the decision to go in search of her sister, who had been taken by some demon and held captive. It wasn’t as if she actually knew where to look for her sister. Then too, she had the worst sense of direction. She hadn’t expected to encounter this sort of problem, however. She’d been lost for hours. It seemed to her that fate had laden her with enough problems without adding the accursed vampire lord to her troubles. Misfortune piled upon misfortune. First a wolf had startled her mare, whom she’d depended upon to show her the way. The frightened mare had swept her from the saddle with the aid of a low-hanging limb, and she had been trying ever since to catch up to the horse. Now this. "I saw no signs," Cerise said carefully, casting about for a weapon.. There was nothing within reach but dirt and dried brush, and thinking realistically, she didn’t have much hope of fending off a vampire should he choose to attack. "Perhaps because there are none?" Cerise gave him an indignant look and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, if that is the case, I fail to see how you can accuse me of trespassing." Daegon gave her an odd sort of look. "My dear child, have you no notion of who these wood belong to?" Cerise considered lying, but it was likely, being a son of the devil, that he could read minds. With alarm, she wondered if he could manipulate them too. ‘Twas best not to think on that route. "Obviously you," she retorted, opting somewhat for the truth, "But how was I to know that?" Daegon tilted his head to one side, studying her as if he had just discovered a rare find. Something lit in his eyes, and she was certain it boded ill. "And now that you do know?" he asked curiously. "I shall leave, of course. Only point the way to me, for I am lost in these accursed woods and have been half the day." A thin smile curled the vampire lord’s lips. He was really quite handsome, Cerise thought vaguely. Not so handsome that she was willing to allow him to violate her, but far more handsome than any living man she knew. Or dead either, for that matter. A thin beard cut across the line of his jaw, and along with the mustache, lent him a dastardly look, more akin to a wicked rogue than some demon spawn. Hair like the night parted on his high forehead, curling over his shoulders in wanton disarray. His face was haunted angles; a distinctly squared jaw line; blade of a nose; thick brows that arched high and pulled deep when he frowned; hollow cheeks and sharply high cheekbones. But it was his eyes that were so arresting. They seemed to stare straight through her, into the chaos of her mind. Color indistinguishable with the night, she could only guess what hue they were, but she rather imagined a soulless black, or perhaps red as the blood of his victims. She shuddered at the thought, unable to consider the mental image of feeding, but the vision of him suckling a woman’s neck toyed with her imagination. Would it be painful, or the ecstasy others believed? She liked that line of thought even less, and half wondered if he’d planted the image in her mind merely to toy with her. "I do believe I am going to enjoy this," he murmured, taking a step toward her. Her eyes widened. She took a step back. "There’s no need to be nasty about this. I am perfectly willing to leave." He moved a step closer. "Ah, but you’re assuming that I would allow it." Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Cerise whirled and fled back down the path, in the direction from which she had come. She was certain if she just followed the path, she could at least find her way back to where her horse had thrown her. A wicked laugh echoed through the forest around her, raising the hair on the back of her neck like a shock. It sounded unnervingly close. She didn’t dare risk a look behind her. Instead, throwing caution to the wind, she leapt from the path and tore off through the woods. Her breath was coming so hard and fast, she felt dizzy from it, but she didn’t dare slow her steps. She plowed through the frost-killed brush, still thick enough to hamper her speed, but she hoped it would disguise her path through the wood. Leaping a low tangle of vines, she jumped behind the broad trunk of a tree and paused, trying to steady her breath, trying to listen for sounds of pursuit. "You are flushed, my dear," murmured a voice directly in her ear. Cerise spun around with a startled gasp and gaped at the man who had appeared seemingly from out of nowhere. "The color becomes you." Cerise screamed and stomped his foot, shoving his chest at the same moment. She wasn’t certain whether she’d actually managed to knock him from his feet, or if he’d merely vanished again, but she didn’t wait around to find out. She turned toward the path once more, or at least the direction she thought which the path lay. The trees seemed to reach out to grab her, tearing at her clothing as she fled as fast as her feet could carry her. A briar caught her bodice, ripping it from neckline almost to her waist. Gasping, she grasped the edges of her torn bodice and ran faster. Before she quite knew what had happened, she stumbled into a tiny brook. She gaped at the water swirling around her feet. Her legs immediately began going numb with the cold. She didn’t think she could feel much more miserable, unless someone tipped a bucket of the water over her head. Cerise searched her mind, grasping for bearings. She didn’t remember crossing a brook before. Where was that twice damned path she’d followed? As she turned, wondering how she’d gotten her sense of direction so twisted around, she saw the vampire lounging on a flat rock that bordered the bank, a half smile curling his lips. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest and she froze. He trailed a hand in the water, his smile inviting, as if they were on a picnic together. "You seem a little breathless, sweeting. Shall I remove that tiresome corset as well?" Cerise stared at him, trying to cover herself with little success. She tucked the edges of her bodice into her corset as she gave him an evil eye. "You villain! It was you who ripped my bodice!" He looked pleased with himself. Cerise wanted to slap him. "A paltry trick." "A low trick," she retorted, putting every ounce of disgust she held into her voice. Her reaction served only to amuse him more. Seeing he was no imminent threat at that moment, Cerise looked around a little desperately as she tried to get her bearings. He pointed over his shoulder. "The path is that way, my love." Cerise glared at him indignantly. As if she would believe him. She wasn’t about to fall for that one. Hiking her wet skirts to her knees, she slogged through the creek and up the other side. She developed a stitch in her ribs as she ran, and she clutched the pain, forcing herself onward. Her heart leapt with relief when she stumbled from the woods and onto a brightly lit meadow. She knew she could put more distance between her and that wicked man if she left the woods and crossed the clearing. She had almost made it halfway across when she stumbled over something and felt herself rushing toward the ground. She shrieked and threw up her hands to catch herself. Two arms encircled her before she could strike the ground, a firm body surprisingly muscled cushioning her fall. Half stunned, Cerise looked up at the man who held her. Him. As if it could be anyone else. He lifted his brows. "And I had thought you were playing hard to get. You are a wanton, my love, to throw yourself in my arms this way." His arms tightened around her, plumping her breasts to the top of her corset until she thought they would burst from the encasement. He smiled as he looked from her breasts and into her eyes. There was something decidedly the lady killer in gaze. "You tripped me," she accused. "Unhand me. Now, my lord." "Daegon," he corrected, confirming her worst suspicions, "And cease this fun? My love, you know not what you ask." Something had crept down to one buttock cheek. It felt like a hand. When she squirmed to look back, it squeezed. Cerise jumped in surprise, shocked to her toes. She pushed at his chest, glaring at him, wishing he’d remove that offensive palm from her backside. "I am no wanton, my lord. It is you and your vile games that put me in this position." His smile turned devilish, making her heart flutter. "You prefer another?" He rolled suddenly, landing atop her as he bore her against the soft earth of the meadow. His hands slipped from her back and came down on either side of her head, holding her hands trapped between their melded bodies. Cerise began to lose feeling in her fingertips. He felt as heavy as solid muscle. She couldn’t locate an ounce of fat to pinch, no soft spot upon his body she could strike from her position. Her heart pounded from her exertion. Her lungs fought to drag in air. She felt a little faint. "You know … that … is not … what … I meant," she gritted out, struggling beneath him. His mouth quirked with amusement. He lifted slightly, decreasing his weight enough she could breathe without heaving and crushing her breasts against his chest with every breath. "Think you I read minds?" "I would not be surprised. I’ve heard stories of your ilk. What is your intent now?" she asked, not particularly wanting to know the answer, but she rather thought it would behoove her to be prepared. He might actually tell her the truth and give her fair warning. He arched a brow. "What manner of stories? Perhaps the vampire’s kiss?" His voice dropped an octave, slipping to a sensual purr that rubbed along her nerves like a cat. "Have you an interest to know the touch of a vampire?" Alarm flared through her combining with an odd sort of thrill that she didn’t want to examine at the moment. Of course, it could be only fright, for she was not in the best position to fight him off. He didn’t await her answer, but leaned close as though to kiss her. Cerise snapped her teeth at him, missing him by inches. He pulled back in surprise, and she shoved at his chest, wedging her knee between him, pushing with all her might. His impetus rolled him off of her. He grabbed at her feet as she rolled to her knees. She kicked backwards like a horse, striking soft flesh. Cerise scrambled away, getting to her feet. Heedless of all else, she picked up her skirts and ran through the meadow toward the dark shadow of trees. She dashed past the trunks, heading into blackness absolute, ignoring the tear of limbs and brambles. Her thighs burned as if afire, taxed to the limit of endurance. Her sides felt ready to split, and her feet felt heavy, as though she traveled a bog rather than dry, wintry woods. She felt at any moment, her beleaguered heart would give out. Her pace unconsciously slowed as she melted deeper into the woods. She would never find the path now. Even the moonlight deserted her in her need. That devil had pursued her until she scarce had a notion of what was up or down. Ahead, a light shone suddenly, pouring from the sky like silver. Cerise chased it with a last burst of energy, pushing through the trees into a meadow. She stopped at the edge, looking around in confusion. She dropped her skirts, clutching her chest as she caught her breath. This couldn’t be the same clearing. She couldn’t have traveled in a circle. It just wasn’t possible. "Confused?" an annoyingly familiar voice said behind her. Cerise whirled around, found him studying her with amusement. Rage overtook her. She wanted to see blood … and not her own. "You bastard! You, you … you just let me think I could escape!" "I cannot help that you cannot accept the consequences of your actions, my dear. I gave you warning you couldn’t leave unless I allow it." With a growl that came from some forgotten place deep inside her, she curled her hands into talons and lunged for his throat. He stepped aside, catching her arms as she sailed past him, twirling her around until she was ensnared in his arms and helpless to escape or shred the hide from his bones. Cerise gave him a murderous look as he regarded her like a child throwing a tantrum. If she thought her head could withstand it, she would have butted the smug smile from his face. "Such violence," he murmured, tsking with disapproval. He sighed, rolling one shoulder in a stretch. "I believe we’ve played enough now," he said, lazily regarding her. The heat of anger was too much combined with the exhaustion of her flight. She was so tired--tired and ready to admit she’d been defeated. Had he played fair as any decent man would, she was certain he would not be the victor. If she lived past this day, he would regret it, though she rather doubted she would. Didn’t all hunters toy with their prey before killing? "Just be done with it," she said with a breathless voice, full of exhaustion. She tilted her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain. He chuckled, mild laughter rumbling in his chest. She felt it seep through her own. He seemed to take great delight in her misery. She startled as one arm moved from her back and his fingers cupped her jaw. He tipped her back, arching her neck, brushing his fingers across her lips and down her throat. Tingles spread from his fingertips like a spiraling web, warm, soothing. She thought he would be cold, not vibrantly heated like a living man. Languor twined through her limbs. "I’m honored you give yourself to me, fair Cerise," he whispered, spreading warmth across her collarbone. His heat seeped into her skin, into her muscles, paralyzing her to his touch. She should have been alarmed, frightened, but she couldn’t conjure such rabid emotions, only a vague curiosity. "How did you know … my…," she murmured as a haze enveloped her in its embrace.
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