Book Boyfriends...
The authors of Evernight invite you to a Speed
Date challenge. Their cowboys, Doms, detectives, millionaires, royalty,
vampires, soldiers, shifters, even steam-powered heroes are waiting to meet you
on each author website. 50 heroes in 7 days! Are you up for the challenge?
Pull up a chair and get to know every single one.
I’d love to introduce you to my hero...
Grisha Sergewski was one of those heroes that came out of nowhere and just wouldn't be silenced. This Russian is a Siberian Tiger Shifter, and after Ink the most respected and experienced Dom at Club Ink, the exclusive BDSM club nestled away in a nondescript side street in the middle of London, UK.
"So,
what will it be, doll?"
"A
black Russian, please, and my name is Estelle." Cherie smirked, looking
behind her and made herself busy fixing the drink.
"Someone
called for me?"
The
deep accented voice rumbled through Estelle, and two heavily muscled arms came
round her and caged her in against the bar. Eyes the color of coal connected
with hers in the mirrors behind the bar, the man's white hair a direct contrast
to the ebony hues of his skin. He, too, seemed a walking furnace. He rested his
chin on her shoulder and inhaled deeply.
"Hmm,
so sweet and fresh and unclaimed." Cherie rolled her eyes at Estelle and
passed her the drink she ordered.
"She
asked for a drink, not you. The lady is spoken for, so back off, Grisha."
She smiled at Estelle and glared at Grisha.
He
chuckled again, dropped a kiss against the rapidly beating pulse in Estelle's
neck and pulled back just enough to enable Estelle to swing round on her chair.
It was Grisha's voice she
heard now, his accent heavier than normal, as he berated the cleaning crew. A
thin shaft of light darted through the slightly open door. That explained why
she could hear the ruckus. Ink's dungeon was sound-proof. She giggled when
Grisha gave up on trying to talk in English and lapsed into a furious string of
Russian swear words instead. Something had seriously rattled him this morning.
It took a lot to get Grisha to lose his temper. The cleaners scuttled away, and
Grisha shouldered the door open.
"Did the incompetent
durakov wake you up? I'll go send their asses up to their throats if
they did." He paced the length of the dungeon, his eyes glowing in the dim
light. Cherie jumped when he stopped in front of her and growled. This was not
a side of Grisha she knew, and she grabbed for the sheet to cover herself up
with.
"Well, actually, I
think it was your hollering at them that woke me. Someone run over your favorite chew
toy?" Her attempt to lighten the
mood fell flat. Grisha just growled some more, muttered something else in
Russian, and switched the light on.
Cherie gasped when he
turned around. Sheet forgotten she scrambled to her knees on the bed and
grasped hold of his arm better to see the injuries to his face. One eye was
swollen shut, his lip split, and a nasty bruise was starting to form on his
arm. He stilled her frantic exploration with one large hand and shook his head
at her.
"Leave
it be. I'll heal quickly, as you well know."
"But I don't
understand. Who did this to you and why?" There weren't many men who could
best the Siberian tiger. "Where's Ink? Did he do this?"
Grisha didn't look at her
when he replied.
"The man is an
overgrown, besotted pussy cat, who can't see his ass past his fucking balls. He
left, sweetheart." He smiled grimly at her sharp intake of breath, and
fixed his one good eye on her. "He's left me in charge. Fine job I'm doing
of that. The fucking cleaners don't even listen to me."
"What do you mean
he's left you in charge? He can't have. Not that you couldn't run the club, but
this is Ink's baby. I don't understand why he would do that, unless – unless…" She bit her lip and shook her head and pulled
her knees up to her chest.
"Unless what,
sweetheart?" Grisha hooked a finger under her chin, and the concern in his
eyes was her undoing. She sniffed her distress, and Grisha pulled her on his
lap, whilst she cried into his shoulder. There she had been thinking this was a
new beginning for Ink and her, and all this time she had been fooling herself.
If he truly cared about her, he would have stayed, wouldn't he? By the time she
finally got herself under control Grisha's shirt was soaked through.
"I'm sorry I made
you all wet."
"Ach, never mind
that. He'd have my pelt if he could see the mess I'm making of things. I'm
supposed to take care of you, not get you all upset."
"Take care of me,
how, exactly?"
Grisha looked decidedly
uncomfortable and Cherie's tiger growled her annoyance.
"Let me guess. You
have free leave to screw me whenever I feel the need to scratch an itch, is
that it?"
"Now, I wouldn't put
it quite like that, sweetheart, but yes, you and me, we could play if you
wanted to." He skimmed a bloody knuckle across her exposed breasts and
smiled as her traitorous nipples responded instantly. She crossed her arms over
her chest, and his smile deepened. "But I'm not the one you want, is
it?"
Cherie shook her head,
and Grisha sighed.
"Didn't think so. I
never am, after all." He looked wistful for a second before he flashed his
usual grin at her, and despite her heart splintering into a thousand bite-sized
pieces, Cherie's lips twitched in response.
"Well, if you change your mind, sweetheart,
you know where I am."
"I don't know you. How can I trust
you?"
"Because sometimes it's easier to
tell someone you don't know." He cupped her chin and dug his fingers into
her skin hard enough to hurt. "And because I get the whole need to mark
skin thing, but you need to do it in a safe manner. I leave marks that fade,
never scar. Marks that tease, and arouse, and get you so damn turned on, you'll
have the hottest sex you ever had. Marks that will proclaim I own you, at least
whilst in a scene. Think on that, sweetheart, next time you stare into the
flame."
He let go of her so suddenly she felt bereft.
As smoothly as he'd placed her on his lap, he moved her off it, until she was
sitting on the couch looking up at him. He pulled a card out of his trouser
pocket and placed into her hand. He leant down to do so, and Neeve's stomach
flipped over as he drew so close their breaths mingled. Her eyes fluttered shut
in anticipation of his kiss—a kiss she suddenly craved with every fiber of her
being—a kiss that never came.
"Look at me, sweetheart." His lips hovered over hers, when she opened
her eyes, and he smiled. Arms either side of her body, he obliterated her view
of anything but him, but her senses drank in the sight and feel of his powerful
body. He'd rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and opened a few more buttons on
his shirt, exposing a smattering of dark hair on his chest, and Neeve's mouth
watered. The contrast of the white shirt against his dark skin mesmerized her.
She took in the play of muscles as he straightened away from her. With his tie
loose around his neck, and his hands now pushed into his trouser pockets, he
was the image of disheveled elegance.
"When you're ready to trust me,
look me up, Neeve."
****
Now, what else is up for grabs in this hop?
•
One lucky hopper will win a KINDLE
PAPERWHITE eREADER sponsored by Evernight Publishing.
•
Plus, each author offers their own unique
prize! So visit each blog hop stop for a host of fabulous prizes to win.
How to enter? Answer this question.
If Grisha was your Dom, what scene would you want to play?
Be sure you leave the answer and your email address in the comments below to be
eligible to win a prize.
You’re one step closer to meeting your next Book
Boyfriend...
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