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As a book listed under my "Need A.S.A.P!!!"
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The
Strix
By
Katalina Leon & Amber Skyze
Book
One: The Bag Of Tricks series
Genre:
Paranormal erotic-romance, vampire, historical, parallel worlds.
Publisher:
Loose Id LLC
Date of
Publication: July 17, 2012
ISBN:
978-1-61118-906-3
ASIN:
B008MH8FTG
Number
of pages: 262
Word
Count: 83,134
Book
Description:
A
cursed amber amulet unearthed in Pompeii flings Arcona into a past life of
witchcraft, bloodshed, revenge, and sexual slavery to the cruel Master of a
gladiatorial school. This violent parallel world is populated with “Slayers,”
blood-drinking immortals devoted to the gods of war and mayhem.
As a
Strix, or malignant witch, Arcona once used sex and blood rituals to create a
race of immortal warriors to unleash on Rome. Now it’s time to pay.
The
gladiator Tyr was one desperately lonely lover she betrayed. Against his will,
she turned him into Upir Likhyi, a foul vampire. For two millennia he’s lived a
grim existence as a Slayer, in constant sexual arousal yet denied release; now,
he's pissed off and wants revenge. He kidnaps Arcona, planning to drink her dry
and break the curse.
Along
the way Arcona and Tyr relive their sexual slavery at the hands of Rome and
blood sport in the arena, but the real magic is they forgive and fall in love.
Too bad
another Slayer wants them dead.
Publisher's
Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and
material that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse,
dubious consent, female/female sexual practices.
Excerpt The Strix
(Arcona is speaking to Salem witch Dame Bishop
in the Silver Moon Scrying Shoppe)
“Are
you familiar with the legend of the Strix?”
“No.”
Arcona shook her head, noting that the amulet was warming almost too quickly in
her cool palm.
“You
won’t find this myth in many books; few know or speak of the Strix. The Strix
was a compilation of all ancient Rome’s guilty fears about the so-called
barbarians they enslaved, punished, and brought under their own roofs as
domestics, lovers, and lethal entertainment.
The Strix combined fearful
barbarian lore and Roman superstitions in a single horrific creature that
traveled the night as a grotesque bird of prey, sucking the blood from innocent
people and turning them against Rome.
“The
Strix might start life as a worshipper of Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft and
necromancy. She could be born Roman or Celtic and work as a healer, witch, or
midwife, but somewhere along the way, hatred and the need for revenge against
the oppressor corrupted the witch’s capacity for doing good. Rage and
destruction took the place of healing acts. Stray witches made bargains with
dark forces in exchange for the power to grant invincibility in battle to
others, who in turn would walk the earth in violent wrath.”
Arcona
grimaced. “The Strix sounds absolutely repulsive.”
“She
isn’t, and by the way the Strix is always a she. The essence of Venus imbued
the Strix with the power to seduce and sexually torment any young man she
approached. She sought out strong, battle-worthy men. Her victims were
powerless to refuse. At the climax of the sexual act, she’d drink their blood
and send them into a violent rage. During these unnatural couplings, rarely but
sometimes a male, Upir Likhyi, was created.”
Arcona
was almost afraid to ask. “What’s an Upir Likhyi?” She struggled to pronounce
the unwieldy words.
“It’s
an old pagan Baltic term for wicked or foul vampire. It is a revenant, or
undead soul, that seeks the thrill of blood sport and warfare. In ancient times
many were recruited to secretly serve Mars.”
A
shiver trembled up her spine. “We certainly don’t need any more of those
violent, bloodsucking sorts hanging around, that’s for sure.” She laughed with
nervous self-consciousness until she noticed Dame Bishop’s serious face. It was
apparent she did not share the dismissive attitude.
Arcona
struggled to compose herself. “I don’t mean to sound so disrespectful, because
I love mythology too. It’s had a huge influence over human history, but myths
are just a way to explain human desires and behavior. I’m a bit puzzled that
you’re talking about the Strix as if it’s a real entity.”
Dame
Bishop blanched. “It is a real entity. Make no mistake; every myth carries a
grain of truth within. There are realms loosely tethered to this one far
stranger than anything you can imagine. To say these realms are less real than
ours is to profess the Earth is flat. It is a statement only the ignorant can
speak freely.”
“I’m
sorry.” Damn, she really put her foot in it. Arcona gently lowered the amulet
back into its box. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s fascinating.”
She
gazed at the skeletal bronze birds and strange craftsmanship one last time.
“How exactly did you come across this? A rare artifact of this age seems like
it should be safely stashed in a museum.”
“I
agree.” Dame Bishop’s expression brightened. “Some associates of mine at the
Universita di Roma know my interest in such things and were kind enough to
allow me to examine the amulet.”
“I’m
familiar with the University of Rome! My ex-husband once taught there. Who are
your contacts; perhaps I know them?”
“I
highly doubt it.” Dame Bishop’s mouth drew tense. “My colleagues are very
private people.” Her gaze dropped toward the amulet. “Tomorrow it’s headed to
the Smithsonian in an armored car. I just wanted to share it with one last soul
before it continued on its journey to lie locked away in some sterile vault
until the curators can figure out what to do with it.”
A
heightened gleam shone in Dame Bishop’s eyes as she lifted the amulet from the
box and held it toward Arcona. “Why don’t you try it on? Just to see what it
feels like.” A sly smile crossed her lips. “This is a bit of living history.
You may never get an opportunity like this again.”
Something
about the amber riveted Arcona’s attention. The center of the amulet was
translucent and glowed like a fiery ember. Against her better judgment about
carelessly handling antiquities and possibly ill-gotten property, she reached
for the leather thong and looped it around her neck.
The
amulet hung heavy and prominent atop her breasts. Arcona glanced downward. This
was a big, bold piece of ornamentation obviously meant to immediately identify
its wearer as a witch who had wandered over to the dark side.
A loud
knock pounded on the front door of the shop.
Arcona
started.
“Excuse
me.” Dame Bishop pulled the curtain to the back room aside. “Let me see who’s
at the door.”
Arcona
was left alone in the back room to gaze down at the amulet and decided that in
spite of the somewhat disturbing bronze motifs it was actually very beautiful
and must have made a strong impression in its day.
The
warm, subtle scent of amber resin reached her nose. She sniffed again in
disbelief, knowing there was no way this ancient piece of fossilized amber
could possibly be emitting a scent.
She
inhaled the mystery fragrance, and sure enough, the rich scent of earthy amber
was filling the air. She glanced around curious to know if there was anything
near that could possibly be the source of the aroma and saw nothing she could
hold to account.
She
glanced toward the curtain. What was Dame Bishop up to? She didn’t hear
anything going on in the front of the shop. All was silent.
She
turned to leave the back room, and her knees buckled. A moment of extreme
dizziness knocked her off balance and sent her flailing toward the dusty
countertop in a scrambling attempt to keep from falling to the floor.
She
blinked in shock as she doubled over the countertop. God, it was getting warm
in here. Her skin felt burning hot. She gasped and tugged her coat away from
her body, but it didn’t help.
A
terrifying sensation of thousands of vicious needle jabs prickled the tender
soles of her feet and spread upward. She struggled to kick her tall leather
boots free of her feet but couldn’t. The burning sensations licked higher up
her legs. She gulped air, fighting rising panic. Her skin felt crispy as if it
were being cooked. The pain escalated until it was unendurable. “Help!”
The
curtain of the back room was thrown open, and Dame Bishop appeared. “What’s
wrong, dear?”
Arcona
pulled herself upright. Suddenly nothing was wrong, except the sleeves of her
trench coat were covered in dust up to the elbows from writhing against the
countertop. The horrid burning sensation left as swiftly as it had arrived.
“Dear God, that was weird. For a moment it felt like I was on fire.”
“Really?”
Dame Bishop didn’t look the least bit surprised.
“Really.
I think this amulet is cursed. Wearing it feels awful.”
“Cursed?”
Dame Bishop balked. “I thought you were a skeptic?”
“I’m
still a skeptic, but I’m telling you there is something unwholesome about this
piece of jewelry. Perhaps it should be kept in a sterile museum vault.”
“Hold
on a minute. Don’t be so quick to judge.” Dame Bishop wagged an admonishing
finger in the air. “You were the one who was burning. Maybe we should
concentrate on that.”
“Are
you implying that what just happened to me was my fault? I put the amulet on
and immediately felt like I was on fire. That never happens to me. Does that
sort of thing happen to you? It’s kind of weird. I think I’m entitled to blame
the amulet.” She half listened to herself, cringing at the childish tone of her
argument.
Arcona
took told of the leather thong and tried to yank the amulet over her head, but
it tangled in her long auburn hair. She grasped the bronze setting and tried to
untangle the thong. The setting hooked onto her sweater and clung like a bur.
“Look at this thing!” She tugged at the amulet in exasperation. “It’s like an
octopus grapping me.”
“Leave
it alone,” Dame Bishop said tersely. “Don’t provoke it.”
“What?”
Arcona frowned. “I want it off.”
“It’s
not coming off, at least not until it’s ready.”
“No
way.” Arcona grabbed the thong and gave it a sharp upward yank. A hellish
burning sensation reminiscent of having cooked skin peeled from her bones
racked her. “Oh my God!” she wailed.
She let
go of the amulet, and the pain stopped in an instant.
Dame
Bishop’s brow creased with serious concern.
“You
didn’t know this would happen, did you?” Arcona fought a rising sense of panic.
“Please take it off me. I don’t want it near me, and I’m afraid to touch it.”
“I
wouldn’t dare.” Dame Bishop took a cautious step backward. “I can’t take it off
you. You’re the only one who can free yourself.”
_________
Author
Bio Katalina Leon
I’m an
artist, an author, mother and wife. I write for Loose Id Publishing and
Ellora’s Cave. I try to bring a touch of the mystical and a big sense of
adventure to everything I write because I believe there’s a bold, kick-ass
heroine inside all of us who wants to take a wild ride with a strong worthy
hero.
Night
Owl Reviews Author page
Seven
Sexy Scribes blog http://sevensexyscribes.blogspot.com/?zx=9dc4c582426b5efe
Katalina’s
blog http://katalinaleon111.blogspot.com/
Ellora’s
Cave http://www.jasminejade.com/m-569-katalina-leon.aspx
2 comments:
Thank you for hosting me Mila!
Thank you so much for being here!
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