About The Book:
Title: Brandon
Series: Siren #3
Author: Marata Eros
Genre: Adult, Erotica, Paranormal
Release Date: October 17, 2014
Brandon, a Druid male warrior, has sought the call of the Mother, the sea’s endless summons something he can no longer ignore.
Leaving the Reaper vampire stronghold, he seeks those females who share his blood and unique calling. Brandon enters a battle between the mixed-blood Constantine, Kane of demon descent and Madden—a Mer who has the answers to the mystery of his lineage.
Left with more questions than answers, Brandon is shocked when he discovers a female that is mixed as he.
Can Brandon find answers to the questions that plague him? Or will his protection for the one female who calls to him circumvent the resolution he craves? When males from the opposing sects hunt him for what he possesses—can he call on his Druid counterparts to save everything he cares most about …
Excerpt:
Ember steps around Con, and Con sees Madden's nostrils flare. Hard.
“You have fucked the Faction,” Madden accuses her.
Constantine sighs. Grabbing Ember's elbow, he jerks her closer to him. “You imbecile, I am no longer Faction. Do you see yonder Faction present? Them, oaf, not I.”
Madden's brows dump, his eyes narrowing to slits. “A mongrel is what I see,” he says, dismissing the Faction who used to battle alongside Con.
Not that the other Faction’s stance as current potential enemy ruffled Con’s feathers. Con has found independence, and it suits him quite well.
Con doesn’t have time for usurpation. “Well, bravo, my fishy enemy. But this mongrel will end you.”
The Mer open their mouths to call the Mother.
Constantine would like to bitch about their methods. However, he has always been a dirty fighter, and he approves of using everything at his disposal.
On that note. Con whips Ember around, gripping her arms. Her blood-red eyes and blond hair contrast in the strangled moonlight seeping through the trees like pale blood.
“Derail their siren's call, Ember.”
Her eyes grow round. “I do not know if I am able.”
He gives her a teeth-rattling shake. “Try—before I inspire you to do so. You can take the Faction out of the male, but the violence remains.”
Constantine draws her close as the Mer call the aid of the sea.
He feels the Mother as his lips take Ember's in a brutal press of flesh that leaves her gasping.
He bites her lip just hard enough to draw blood, and it fills their mouths.
He pulls away. “Do it. Do it now!”
Ember's tongue swipes at the wound. He watches her pupils dilate, the black eating the red. When her eyes are glossy ink marbles in the ivory of her face, her mouth opens, and Ember's song fills the stillness.
The demonic and Druid cover their ears against it.
But Con does not. He has enough blood of the Mer to tolerate her high-toned wail, though it causes as much pain as it does pleasure.
A common theme for what Constantine enjoys best.
A wall of seawater rises like a hand from a watery grave. It hovers over Ember and Constantine.
The Druid's arms drop to his sides, an expression of wonder filling his face as he approaches them.
Ember's wailing isn’t interrupted when she gives a cautionary shake of her head. Con doesn’t shred the cock and balls off the young male, as his impulse would normally be, because when the Druid sets his hands on both their shoulders, Ember’s song rises in pitch—strengthening the call. The water that threatens them swings around and crashes into the five Mer and Faction who sidle closer to gain the advantage of proximity.
Fierce satisfaction fills Con when the Mers’ siren call is cut short, water stealing the sound.
Ember's final note carries on the now-still air. Her trembling music crushes the silence as it ends.
Their breathing is all Constantine hears.
“You have fucked the Faction,” Madden accuses her.
Constantine sighs. Grabbing Ember's elbow, he jerks her closer to him. “You imbecile, I am no longer Faction. Do you see yonder Faction present? Them, oaf, not I.”
Madden's brows dump, his eyes narrowing to slits. “A mongrel is what I see,” he says, dismissing the Faction who used to battle alongside Con.
Not that the other Faction’s stance as current potential enemy ruffled Con’s feathers. Con has found independence, and it suits him quite well.
Con doesn’t have time for usurpation. “Well, bravo, my fishy enemy. But this mongrel will end you.”
The Mer open their mouths to call the Mother.
Constantine would like to bitch about their methods. However, he has always been a dirty fighter, and he approves of using everything at his disposal.
On that note. Con whips Ember around, gripping her arms. Her blood-red eyes and blond hair contrast in the strangled moonlight seeping through the trees like pale blood.
“Derail their siren's call, Ember.”
Her eyes grow round. “I do not know if I am able.”
He gives her a teeth-rattling shake. “Try—before I inspire you to do so. You can take the Faction out of the male, but the violence remains.”
Constantine draws her close as the Mer call the aid of the sea.
He feels the Mother as his lips take Ember's in a brutal press of flesh that leaves her gasping.
He bites her lip just hard enough to draw blood, and it fills their mouths.
He pulls away. “Do it. Do it now!”
Ember's tongue swipes at the wound. He watches her pupils dilate, the black eating the red. When her eyes are glossy ink marbles in the ivory of her face, her mouth opens, and Ember's song fills the stillness.
The demonic and Druid cover their ears against it.
But Con does not. He has enough blood of the Mer to tolerate her high-toned wail, though it causes as much pain as it does pleasure.
A common theme for what Constantine enjoys best.
A wall of seawater rises like a hand from a watery grave. It hovers over Ember and Constantine.
The Druid's arms drop to his sides, an expression of wonder filling his face as he approaches them.
Ember's wailing isn’t interrupted when she gives a cautionary shake of her head. Con doesn’t shred the cock and balls off the young male, as his impulse would normally be, because when the Druid sets his hands on both their shoulders, Ember’s song rises in pitch—strengthening the call. The water that threatens them swings around and crashes into the five Mer and Faction who sidle closer to gain the advantage of proximity.
Fierce satisfaction fills Con when the Mers’ siren call is cut short, water stealing the sound.
Ember's final note carries on the now-still air. Her trembling music crushes the silence as it ends.
Their breathing is all Constantine hears.
About The Author:
Marata Eros (a pen name for Tamara Rose Blodgett), is the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author of A Terrible Love. Marata has more than thirty-five titles in multiple genres including Dark Fantasy, Dark Romance as well as her highly successful Dark Erotica series.
Marata lives in South Dakota with her husband, children and fur kids. She is an ardent reader of many genres. Tamara enjoys interacting with her readers via Twitter, blog and newsletter as often as possible. Please stop by and say hi :)
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