Blood and Bondage

Boundless as the Sea welcomes Evernight's own (and our dead friend!), Annalynne Russo, who is here to give us a peek into her new release, Blood and Bondage.

Anaïs Moreau is a classically-trained ballerina born during Henry VIII’s reign in France. After falling victim to the sexual appetites of a nobleman at court, she suffers betrayal and abandonment at the hands of her aristocratic father. Destitute and distraught, she embraces her friend Christine’s gift of immortality and becomes a vampire. For centuries, Anaïs preys on calculating womanizers whose sole purpose is to manipulate women. Until one day, she meets her match.

Oliver Polinski works for the Bureau of Paranormal Affairs. His job is to plan covert missions and train his army of soldiers to hunt down and kill supernatural creatures, vampires most notably. When Oliver and Anaïs cross paths at a mutual friend’s wedding, they learn that they both prefer sex to be a bit kinkier than most.

Can these two star-crossed lovers overcome blinding hate and prejudice for one another and find love? Only time will tell.

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Give us a taste...

Other than the barrage of crimson stares, Anaïs found it difficult to make out faces. She did, however, recognize the guttural moans and groans of pleasure that came from every corner of the room. In addition, the loud bass of hard rock pounded against the walls, making the foundation of the building rattle and hum. The place had been painted in black with only a few dim strobe lights that flashed on and off at intermittent times.

Using the leash he’d insisted she employ, Anaïs paraded her boy toy across the length of the room. She only released him long enough to shackle his arms and legs to the hooks that hung from the walls and low-lying ceiling.

“Are you sure we can do this?” Anaïs asked with trepidation. She wasn’t necessarily keen on public exhibition, especially since the two of them had to make their act appear legitimate. If their resolve wavered for even a second, the bloodsuckers in the club would see through it and surely pounce.

“I’m up to the task. I promise to be a good little sub,” he whispered huskily into her ear, making goose bumps form on already sensitive skin. “What about you?”

“This isn’t generally my scene. But I’m a dancer. I’m used to being on stage.” Anaïs drew back. She stared into the depths of her lover’s eyes, gauging his mood. “You do realize, I’ll have to bite you. If not, these fuckers won’t buy the charade.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders, then handed Anaïs the flogger he’d kept huddled at his side. “No safe word, eh? Well, I suppose you’ve earned a bit of retribution.”

Anaïs squared her shoulders, then yanked on the chains that bound him to ensure they were secure. She had to make her role as dominatrix seem real. After a brief moment of hesitation, she strutted around his tightly-coiled body, her perusal gluttonous and intense. At least she hoped that’s the way it looked. As she encircled him, the cat o’ nine tails she held in her hand lashed at the rippled muscle on his chest. Damn, she found Oliver impossible to resist. Once again, the urge to ravage him had snuck up on her. There was something about his refined masculinity that kept her perpetually ensnared. God, she couldn’t wait to sample the rare, well-preserved vintage of his blood.

Standing behind him, Anaïs raked her razor-tipped fingernails down the curve of his spine. Then she cracked the whip again and watched his body wince. Her hand drifted up, two bloody fingers teetered on the ridge of her lower lip. A few seconds later, her tongue slithered out and sucked the rich, red deliciousness off the fingertips.

That tiny tidbit of her lover’s life essence drove Anaïs’s libido into an all-out frenzy. Moisture from her womb soaked through the slick fabric of her clothing. The warm, slippery wetness slid down her inner thighs. Her hardened nipples sprang to life, rubbing painfully against the clingy latex cat suit. She wanted to tear open the sphere-shaped zippers and thrust her bosom into his face. But with an audience in tow, forcing her sub to do it with his teeth would make for a much more convincing show.

At his mistress’ decree, Oliver lowered his head and obliged, unzipping the fabric that covered each breast in one fell swoop. He puckered up and took one plump areola into his mouth, while he rolled the roughness of his weathered palm over the other.

“Suck harder, damn it! For Christ’s sake, do as I command.” Anaïs screamed loud enough for the masses to overhear.

Oliver’s low rumble reverberated against her skin. No doubt he was turned on, almost as much as she. With their bodies in such close proximity, she could hear the man’s heart beating in his chest. His carotid artery pulsed wildly on the side of his neck and she could no longer war with her instincts.

Anaïs felt her sharp, serrated canines emerge, ready to pierce her lover’s supple flesh. With his mouth still suckling her breast, she reached down and clasped his enormous cock through his jeans, stroking its length until he purred like a cat. Once in the throes of pleasure, she sank her fangs deep, siphoning his blood greedily.

Oliver bucked slightly, then groaned in a clear attempt to remain in control. She knew it must have taken everything he had not to yank on the chains and pull out the stake attached to his hip. To hell with the fact that her bite had made both of them feel good.

Anaïs pulled back, releasing the suction from their pleasure racked bodies. Briefly, she gazed at his face. His eyes still swirled with sexual intent. The flush of his cheeks and the sweat on his brow served as proof that Oliver, too, had enjoyed their display.

Anaïs growled as her tongue swept over the twin pinpricks she’d left in his neck in order to cauterize the open wound. Her shy insecurities had been replaced by desire. “Don’t move, lover boy. The show’s not over yet.”

Annalynne Russo's "Rendezvous with Rumpelstiltskin"

Evernight Publishing has a new line of Naughty Fairy Tales series, and one of those gems is Rendezvous with Rumpelstiltskin, served up by Annalynne Russo!

Let's take a peek inside and see what this story's got to offer...


A smile spread across the imp’s face, revealing a row of crooked, coffee-stained teeth. He stepped toward her, then faltered as if worried she might retreat. “Dry your eyes, my sweet, and sit down at the wheel. Let my hands guide yours, and together, we will make magic.”

“Fine. I’m desperate,’ Katarina said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn my freedom. But what do you ask in return?”

The beast put a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temple. He tilted his head sideways and smiled at her. “Nothing. Other than the pleasure of your company,” he said. “A man like me doesn’t have many friends, let alone a beautiful woman to help pass the time.”

Katarina nodded in agreement and accepted his outstretched hand. As soon as their fingers touched, she felt an inconspicuous jolt of electricity ripple down the vertebrae in her back. Her eyes shot open in surprise. The imp drew back momentarily as if he endured a similar shock to his system. He motioned for her to take a seat, then moved to stand behind her. With her seated in the chair, they were almost the same height. He leaned into her. The warmth of his broad, muscular chest radiated through the translucent cotton shift she’d worn to bed. He flexed his fingers, using them to place Katarina’s delicate appendages along the spindles of the wheel. So close, his heated breath rolled across her skin, and sent shivers over the slender column of her neck in a series of tantalizing waves. The whisper-soft sensation caused goose bumps to form. Rather than pull away, Katarina let her body relax, enveloped in the beast’s feverish embrace.

He extended his arm, grabbed hold of the wheel, and spun it. Its clickety-clack sound reverberated around the room as it completed its first revolution. “Shut your eyes. Surrender all your inhibitions, and visualize what you want.”

Katarina groaned. She took a deep breath and laid her head against his well-defined bicep. What she wanted to do was lose herself in his comforting touch. Forget about the straw that blanketed the frigid concrete floor. Wipe away the memories of Aleksander’s brutality. Soon, the muscles in her back and shoulders relinquished their unwavering grip. She turned her head and took in her companion’s unique, earthy scent. Pine and sandalwood permeated her senses.

“Keep your eyes closed. Otherwise, the full force of the magic won’t take affect.”

Katarina heeded his warning. She allowed his talented digits to do their intricate work. The thin reeds of straw slid through their entwined fingers. Up and down. Over and under. In and out. She felt the rigid fibers give way, transformed into the smooth, silky fabric that cascaded down to the floor and pooled at her feet.

“Tell me your name, little man. Who is this knight in shining armor that sweeps me off my feet and saves the day?” Katarina felt him tense at her back. He stopped moving altogether.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I cannot tell you.” He rubbed his palms down her arms as if to calm her rattled nerves. Or maybe his own.

“Please. Call me, Katarina.”

“Katarina, it may not seem possible, but I haven’t always been the repugnant barbarian that appears before you. Once, I was a handsome man from a prosperous family living in a nearby village. Unfortunately, I cannot jeopardize my identity. If my parents discovered me in this condition, it would be a terrible disgrace.”

Katarina sighed and settled back against his bulky frame, her vision still masked. The sinewy muscles in his arms wrapped around her again as he returned to his work. They labored late into the night. Her fatigued body ached something fierce. Several hours later, she heard a rooster cackle somewhere nearby. The man behind her lifted his head and released the wire spindles on the spinning wheel.

He turned his head and whispered soft words that tickled her ear. “Katarina. Open your eyes and behold our masterpiece.” Her eyelids slowly drifted up, and to her amazement, a luxurious golden-hued textile was laid out like an elaborate carpet draped over the frozen stone tundra.

“It’s magnificent!” Katarina turned and threw her arms around his neck. The warm, exhilarating feel of his hulking form pulled tight against her pliant curves. His brawny biceps dangled over her torso and clung to her narrow, spiraled hips. He shifted his weight, and she felt the unmistakable proof of his desire. Katarina’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She pivoted on the balls of her bare feet and pulled away. “I wish there was some way to repay you. There must be something with which I can tempt you.” Her humble servant winked and shot her a devilish grin. “Be careful what you wish for. I might return one day and demand you turn over your first-born child.” Katarina’s eyebrows popped up, uncertain of his sincerity, until his robust laughter resounded in her ear. Then his expression turned serious. “Don’t worry, princess. In my current state, I can hardly swat at a fly, let alone abduct a child.”

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