Am I teasing the demons? Or do I have demons who are teasing? Maybe a little of both. In exactly one month, Prince of Tricks will be unleashed on the world. I'll be doing a blog tour with Bewitching Book Tours, and the Grand Prize for the tour is absolutely insane. Seriously. It's completely mad. You'll have to wait until the tour starts on January 6 to find out what it is. Because I'm evil like that. ;)
Read MoreGet out the naughty confetti (you know you have some)...
I'm very excited to announce my new series:Demons of Elysium
Coming January 2014 from Samhain Publishing!
This is just a teaser that something is coming down the pike involving two demons and lots of hotness. ;)
Read More
If you've come here via the Angels vs. Demons Blog Hop, welcome! If you just stumbled in here by accident, read on.
Authors Leia Shaw and Carrie Ann Ryan are hosting the blog hop in celebration of their new paranormal romance releases, Destiny Bewitched and Dust of My Wings, and they want to know which you'd rather have to...uh...cuddle up with at night—angels or demons? And what are your favorite angel or demon books?
At the end of this post is a table full of blog links. Every single one of those authors and bloggers is offering their own giveaway, in addition to the blog hop grand prizes: one lucky entrant will win a Kindle Touch and one will win a $60 Barnes & Noble Gift Card! All you have to do to enter is comment on any post in the hop...which means you can enter 103 times. Comments on this post will also enter you in a drawing for a signed copy of my novel, The Fallen Queen, and an autographed cover flat.
This is a long post, so I don't blame you if you want to skip to the contest entry—just scroll to the end (but you're going to miss some man candy!). ;) Just be sure to leave your email address or we won't have any way of contacting you.
The heroes of my House of Arkhangel'sk series, Belphagor and Vasily, aren't your typical demons. But rather than make this post even longer, I'll let you learn all about them on my virtual book tour: Belphagor | Vasily. Separately from this blog hop, I'm also giving away ebook copies of The Fallen Queen at both of those links. (Note that entering the giveaways on those two blogs will NOT enter you in any of the blog hop drawings.)
But if you want the quick down-and-dirty on my wily demons, here are their stats:
BELPHAGOR An airspirit demon of Raqia in the Third Heaven
Build: Wiry but muscular
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 160lbs
Eye color: Ebony
Hair: Dark, short, spiked on top
Body art: Numerous Russian prison tats, including on hands and fingers; pierced eyebrow; pierced nipples
Strengths: Fiercely loyal; able to manipulate the element of air, including influencing the mind; as a BDSM top, he makes people feel cherished and protected with an almost paternal sensibility
Weaknesses: Has difficulty trusting others and keeps things to himself to his own detriment, resulting in getting himself into trouble he might otherwise have avoided
Favorites: The game of wingcasting (a kind of celestial poker); cigars; spanking naughty “boys”; a good Russian tea
Occupation: Gambler and thief
Nickname: Prince of Tricks
Quote: “I can't imagine why you think I'd have sex with a girl.”
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VASILY A firespirit demon of Raqia in the Third Heaven
Build: Built like a Cossack warrior
Height: 6’4”
Weight: 220lbs
Eyes: Hazel, with a tendency towards flaming red with Seraphic fire
Hair: Dreadlocks, lava red, tied back at the crown to expose his neck, with long, scruffy “mutton chop” sideburns
Body art: A row of spiked barbell piercings down both sides of his neck
Strengths: Can light a cigar with his tongue, illuminate the darkness and stoke a fire with his breath, generate healing Seraphic fire, and keep you very warm throughout an Arkhangel’sk winter
Weaknesses: Volatile temper, insecurity/jealousy
Favorites: Vodka, spankings
Occupation: Thief
Quote: “You touch Bel’s marks and I will kill you with my teeth.”
Want to meet my sexy demon duo? Check out my debut novel, The Fallen Queen, Book One in The House of Arkhangel'sk, published in December 2011 by Entangled Publishing and just re-released in mass-market trade paperback with a new, gorgeous cover:
Heaven can go to hell.
Until her cousin slaughtered the supernal family, Anazakia’s father ruled the Heavens, governing noble Host and Fallen peasants alike. Now Anazakia is the last grand duchess of the House of Arkhangel’sk, and all she wants is to stay alive.
Hunted by Seraph assassins, Anazakia flees Heaven with two Fallen thieves—fire demon Vasily and air demon Belphagor, each with their own nefarious agenda—who hide her in the world of Man. The line between vice and virtue soon blurs, and when Belphagor is imprisoned, the unexpected passion of Vasily warms her through the Russian winter.
Heaven seems a distant dream, but when Anazakia learns the truth behind the celestial coup, she will have to return to fight for the throne—even if it means saving the man who murdered everyone she loved.
Read an excerpt from The Fallen Queen
The Fallen Queen is available now at Amazon | on Kindle | Barnes & Noble Nook | Books On Board. Pre-order your copy of Book Two in The House of Arkhangel’sk trilogy, The Midnight Court(Amazon | Barnes & Noble), coming in August 2012.
Today I'm over at Elise Rome's site as part of her March Madness Blog Party. There are prizes galore, so check out the March Madness rules first, then hop over to my author interview and answer the reader question for a chance to win an ebook copy of The Fallen Queen. There's also an extra treat for those who haven't read the book yet, of an Anazakia/Vasily excerpt for your reading pleasure. And here' a little snaphot of Anazakia and Vasily to go along with it:
There were many times I thought this day would never come. (Frankly, I'm not quite sure it's here; I think I'm writing this in my sleep.) The trilogy I thought was a single book when the idea first germinated in my head in late 2005 (and continued to mistakenly believe until early 2009 when I finally decided it was time to get the thing written), and which dragged me all the way to Russia and turned me into a raging Russophile, was officially released today with The Fallen Queen, Book One of The House of Arkhangel'sk. My little angel Anazakia and her demon cohorts Belphagor and Vasily have finally fallen to the world of Man.
You can find out more about them and how they came to be (and what they put me through) on The Fallen Queen Blog Tour, continuing with my guest post, "The Trouble With Angels," on The Book Faery Reviews today.
"Kindred’s tale is a romantic, mature, and lyrical collage of heaven, hell, and a magical royal legend. The combination is divinely—and demonically—inspired.”
—Alethea Kontis, New York Times bestselling author of Enchanted
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“A labyrinth of wonder, intrigue and treachery. High fantasy as sharp as a dagger.”
—Mario Acevedo, author of Werewolf Smackdown
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“Jane Kindred’s The Fallen Queen dazzles with its surreal blending of worlds. Lost angel Anazakia, last survivor of her murdered family, finds herself in the hands of demons with suspect motives, betrayed by her own kind, stranded in the world of Man—21st century St. Petersburg, Russia, to be exact. Weaving startling visuals with compelling characters, Kindred reveals parallels in the two worlds that are ‘neither haphazard chance nor calculated design.’ It’s a dizzying, vibrant read.”
—Lynn Flewelling, author of The Bone Doll’s Twin and the Nightrunner series
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“Angels, demons, sex. Heaven, hell, war. Blood and royalty, history and magic, fire and ice. And a story you cannot put down. This is fantasy at its best.”
—Stephen Graham Jones, author of It Came From Del Rio
Heaven can go to hell.Until her cousin slaughtered the supernal family, Anazakia’s father ruled the Heavens, governing noble Host and Fallen peasants alike. Now Anazakia is the last grand duchess of the House of Arkhangel’sk, and all she wants is to stay alive.
Hunted by Seraph assassins, Anazakia flees Heaven with two Fallen thieves—fire demon Vasily and air demon Belphagor, each with their own nefarious agenda—who hide her in the world of Man. The line between vice and virtue soon blurs, and when Belphagor is imprisoned, the unexpected passion of Vasily warms her through the Russian winter.
Heaven seems a distant dream, but when Anazakia learns the truth behind the celestial coup, she will have to return to fight for the throne—even if it means saving the man who murdered everyone she loved.
Read an excerpt from The Fallen Queen
Available now from Entangled Publishing!
In the midst of my preparations for harakiri—er, I mean, deep in revision mode, I received today's Shakespeare-a-Day sonnet, and it was just perfect for the section I was revising last night: Sonnet 45
The other two, slight air and purging fire, Are both with thee, wherever I abide; The first my thought, the other my desire, These present-absent with swift motion slide. For when these quicker elements are gone In tender embassy of love to thee, My life, being made of four, with two alone Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; Until life's composition be recured By those swift messengers return'd from thee, Who even but now come back again, assured Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, I send them back again and straight grow sad.
"Slight air and purging fire"...if you know anything about The House of Arkhangel'sk, does this make you think of anyone? :)
Okay I'll give you a spoiler hint: I was editing the caning scene in The Fallen Queen. And to those of you who aren't my beta readers and have no idea what I'm talking about, just you wait. The caning scene. Sigh. Dreamy. ;)
...otherwise known as the Land of Revisions. Just thought I'd pop onto the blog to share my favorite line from recent revisions to The Fallen Queen (formerly The House of Arkhangel'sk). Belphagor is half-conscious and being carried on Vasily's back when Vasily has an argument with Belphagor's friend Dmitri. Dmitri:
"And if you want to know the Heavens’ honest truth, Lev and I never really got what he saw in you. You’re sullen and ill-tempered and totally self-absorbed.”
Vasily stared at him, speechless, too stunned to be angry.
“And hot,” Belphagor murmured against his shoulder. “Totally hot.”
Hang on to your hats, because Belphagor and Vasily will soon be at large in the world of Man. (And Anazakia, too...of course Anazakia; she's the star, but really...Belphagor and Vasily, can I hear a w00t??) Yes, I'm rambling. I'll try to be clear: My awesome agent, Sara Megibow, has just sold my House of Arkhangel'sk trilogy to Entangled Publishing. Look, it's even in Publisher's Marketplace and everything (click to see the whole thing):
Numfar, do the dance of joy!
Researching the landscape and the layout of the city of Arkhangel'sk for my latest WIP, I came across this photo via Google Earth that just took my breath away:
This is actually near Mezen, but still in Arkhangel'sk Oblast, and perfectly fits the setting of the middle of The House of Arkhangel'sk. The photographer, Andrey Larin, has a number of photos up on Panoramio that are tagged to Google Maps, and I find myself browsing them for hours whenever I come across them. Googling "Arkhangelsk" in images rarely turns up much for some reason, but on Google Maps, there are a wealth of them.
Here are some others from Arkhangel'sk proper:
I love to imagine Anazakia and Vasily wandering here.
I've marked this post "Character inspiration" because Arkhangel'sk is as much a character as any angel or demon in my books. It's also one Russian setting I've used (along with the nearby Solovetsky islands) where I've never actually been. Clicking through Andrey's pictures makes me feel like I have. So, thanks, Andrey; hope you don't mind a little promotion.
Last summer while working on rewrites for The House of Arkhangel'sk, I briefly veered off onto a storyline where Anazakia meets a rusalka before I realized it had nothing to do with the story. I was sad about it, because I really liked my rusalka Lyudmila, but she had to go. Today Lyudmila surprised me by reappearing in the middle of The Palace of Wisdom. She has none of the sassy dialogue of her first appearance, but wow, does she do a number on Vasily's head.
If you aren't familiar with rusalki, here's what Wikipedia has to say about them:
According to most traditions, the rusalki were fish-women, who lived at the bottom of rivers. In the middle of the night, they would walk out to the bank and dance in meadows. If they saw handsome men, they would fascinate them with songs and dancing, mesmerize them, then lead the man away to the river floor to his death.
...associated with the "unclean force" [nechysta syla]... The ghostly version is the soul of a young woman who had died in or near a river or a lake and came to haunt that waterway. This undead rusalka is not invariably malevolent, and will be allowed to die in peace if her death is avenged.
Rusalki are known in other traditions as sirens, mermaids, and nymphs. Here are some of my favorite images of rusalki I found while surfing about:
Update: I should learn to do my research before hitting "post." And it should have been obvious to me that Viktor Nizovtsev's paintings were not in the public domain. D'oh. He's my age. :) So as lovely as those were, I had to remove them. (You can see my favorite, "Mermaid With Lanterns" on the Fox Hall Gallery website.) But I found another rusalka I adore:
In Slavic mythology, a rusalka (plural: rusalki or rusalky) was a female ghost, water nymph, succubus or mermaid-like demon that dwelled in a waterway.
According to most traditions, the rusalki were fish-women, who lived at the bottom of rivers. In the middle of the night, they would walk out to the bank and dance in meadows. If they saw handsome men, they would fascinate them with songs and dancing, mesmerize them, then lead the man away to the river floor to his death.
Holy crap...I found Vasily:
And here he is complete with Pushkin mutton chops (although Vasily wouldn't be caught in the realm of the dead wearing this):
And one more:
Of course the hair would be a little more like this:
And as a bonus, I also found young Vasily:
I'm in swoony Vasily heaven. (Well, where else?) :D
I've been threatening to post a teaser for my Arkhangel'sk books for a while now, and it's time I put out. The scene that follows doesn't appear in The House of Arkhangel'sk trilogy. It's just a little demon porn treat. (All right, so it's not so much demon porn as demon romantica, but there's only so much I can do with a broody leather demon. He wouldn't give me porn. Maybe next time.)
The Prince of Tricks had been notably absent from the wingcasting table. Word had gotten ’round about the little party he'd broken up in the lower end of the Devil’s Doorstep and the sweet bit of fire demon ass he’d dragged away from it. It wasn’t much of a leap to connect one event to the other. All of Raqia knew of his patronage of the little thief, and plenty had seen him leading the blind-drunk demon to his room in the back of The Brimstone. Belphagor had done nothing either to encourage or discourage speculation. He had a reputation to maintain.
Belphagor sighed as he watched Vasily sleep, stretched out on his stomach across the cot with one bare foot hanging over the edge, his skin exuding a gentle firespirit heat. If only what was going on were even half as interesting as what the rest of Raqia was imagining. But he had, in fact, spent the past several weeks making up for the appalling lack of education to which the young demon had been exposed. Growing up on the streets of Elysium’s demon district, one might not have the advantage of celestial schooling, but a smart demon could pick up tricks and knowledge along the way that would stand him in far better stead than sterile “facts” about the Heavens distilled by dour Dominions in a stuffy schoolroom full of angelic prats.
Which was not to say that Vasily wasn’t smart. But he'd been on the streets from an earlier age than most, and thus had been at the mercy of any number of charlatans and predators, and suffered from an almost alarming naïveté. It was sweet, really. He was so eager to please and desperate to be praised. He was starved for affection—and for a firm hand. The latter, Belphagor had in abundance, and the former he couldn't help but give him. In all the years of his considerable career, Belphagor had never encountered such a genuine soul. Vasily’s emotions were as volatile as his element, but they were writ plain upon his face, and he was as quick to repent as he was to anger.
And his anger stirred Belphagor in a way he had never imagined. Like the unexpected, wild heat of Vasily’s tongue as he’d first taken Belphagor in his mouth, the young demon’s temper made the blood rush to his cock and made his heart beat with a violent measure, while his insolence made Belphagor want to do Vasily genuine harm. It stirred memories he ached to recall, memories of a beautiful Russian prince staring down at him with measured fury, warm grey eyes gone cold, when Belphagor had pushed him too far with his own insolence.
He'd been younger than Vasily was now when Fil had taken him as a lover. Oblivious to the backdrop of the restless country on the brink of revolution, Belphagor had spent that cold Petrograd winter of 1916 inflamed with alternating currents of jealousy and desire. He'd thought it all a game until that moment when he’d gone too far, trying to humiliate the prince in front of his social set because he felt neglected. That moment in the Nevsky Prospekt flat, when Fil had taken him aside and stared down at him with what looked like hate as he’d rebuked him was one of the most painful Belphagor had experienced in his young life.
The anger Vasily aroused in him now wracked him with a conflicting battle of emotion between the hot spark of urgent need to cause the demon pain and put him in his place, and the desperate fear that he would lose him. It was too much to contend with on top of his feelings of guilt over the young demon’s age; Vasily might be past the age of consent in the world of Man, and might have sold his favors to demons long before he had been, but he was decidedly "unworldly" in either plane. So Belphagor had taken a mental step away from his desires and concentrated instead on Vasily’s education.
The worst part of all of it was Vasily’s increasing frustration as Belphagor evaded any intimacy between them. It was a small room he rented in the back of this den of iniquity, and while he strove to spend as much time outside of it as possible during the day, there was no avoiding the presence of the hot little demon in his bed at night.
There was, of course, only room for one in his cot, and so Belphagor took to the floor with a pile of blankets, but more often than not, he'd find Vasily climbing under the covers with him and curling up in his arms. It made sleep impossible. Not for Vasily, who barely woke to slip out of the cot and drifted off immediately with Belphagor’s arms around him. But for Belphagor, feeling the long, sinewy limbs sprawled across his own, and the uncanny warmth the firespirit exuded without breaking a sweat, it was torture. Delightful torture, but torture just the same.
And in the mornings—well, Belphagor had quickly learned to be an early riser, or he would be rising in more ways than one.
Vasily stirred on the cot under Belphagor’s gaze and opened his eyes. Belphagor looked away, intent on his coffee and eggs.
“You got breakfast without me,” Vasily yawned. “Again.”
“Serves you right for your indolence.” Belphagor dipped his toast in the yolk and winked at Vasily as he took a bite.
Vasily rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms and tucking them behind his head. Belphagor had given him a castoff alkogolichka—a sleeveless undershirt of the type the angels called a “demoness beater”—and a pair of striped boxers from the world of Man to sleep in after finding the prospect of the naked demon slipping under the covers with him too much to take. Though he'd been underfed when Belphagor took him in, his frame was swiftly filling out, and the thin, ribbed fabric stretched tightly over Vasily’s broad chest, while the boxers—
Belphagor sputtered on a sip of hot coffee gone down the wrong pipe and turned his attention back to his food. Barely of age or not, no one could accuse Vasily of not being a healthy young lad.
“What boring market are you dragging me to today?” Vasily grumbled, oblivious to his own allure.
“May seem boring to you now,” said Belphagor after he’d stopped coughing and collected himself, “but knowing how to count facets and use them wisely is vital for success at the wingcasting table.”
“I don’t see why I can’t learn it at the wingcasting table.”
Belphagor laughed. “I don’t think I could afford the tuition.”
Vasily gave him an exaggerated sigh as he rose and pulled on a pair of American blue jeans Belphagor had won some months ago in a game in the world of Man before the collapse of the Soviet Union had made them less of a luxury. They fit Vasily’s ass perfectly.
“I’m going to the ‘tualyet’.” Vasily rolled his eyes at the word Belphagor insisted he use in place of shitcan. He pulled on his boots and grabbed the other slice of toast from Belphagor’s plate as he headed for the door.
Belphagor made a swing for him as he dashed past and managed to slap him on the ass. He regretted it immediately as both of them paused in the midst of laughter and grew serious. Belphagor looked away and Vasily stood for a moment longer in the doorway, and then sighed and went out.
#
When Vasily returned, Belphagor was folding the blankets he slept on and stacking them on the cot. Vasily watched the dark-haired demon for a moment. He wore the sleeves of his black t-shirt rolled up over his well-developed biceps as if the fabric were too tight to contain them, neatly framing tattoos of a naked pinup girl with angels’ wings on one arm and the head of a lion on the other. He'd asked Belphagor a few times what they meant, but had gotten nothing but noncommittal grunts for his trouble.
Belphagor looked up as he approached him, giving him that same guarded look he was all about lately.
Vasily stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”
“Mad at you?” Belphagor’s brow wrinkled, making the metal bar piercing his left eyebrow flash in the thin shaft of sunlight that managed to get through a tear in the dark curtains. “Why in Heaven’s name would I be mad at you?”
“Have you decided you don’t want me here?”
Belphagor set the blankets aside, his face devoid of emotion. “What brought this on?”
It was an evasion, and worse than that, it was a lie. Belphagor knew damn well what had brought it on. Vasily hated being lied to. The heat in Vasily's eyes was immediate, like a fever headache had struck behind them. “You think I’m stupid,” he snapped. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? You think you’re so damn smart and I’m just a stupid suka who doesn’t know anything but sucking khui!”
Belphagor stepped toward him so swiftly that the slap took Vasily by surprise. He stumbled, blinking back tears at the unexpected sting. Belphagor snarled at him like a rabid wolf. “Who taught you that fucking word?”
Vasily's tears evaporated instantly in the fire of outrage. “Who the fuck are you? My schoolmaster? You the only who gets to teach me words? Poshel na khui!”
Belphagor seized him by the arms, his strong, ink-marked hands biting into the flesh, and Vasily felt a stirring of alarm at the look in his eyes. Belphagor was only an airspirit and there was no fire in the dark gaze, but something about it made his balls clench. “I asked you a question.” Belphagor’s voice was even, but the intensity behind the words was ominous.
Vasily wasn’t about to let him know he’d scared him. Defiance seemed like the only reasonable option. “So? What are you going to do, give me another strapping?”
Something glinted in Belphagor’s eyes and he almost smiled, though the dangerous stillness remained. “Do you want another strapping?”
“Fuck you, Belphagor.”
Belphagor swung him around in a smooth motion and slammed Vasily onto his back on the cot, nearly knocking the wind out of him. The older demon climbed over his thighs, still pinning his arms at his sides. “Fuck me?”
Vasily’s heart was pounding with fear. And something else. Something frantic. He jerked against Belphagor’s grip. “Fuck! You!”
Belphagor let go of him and Vasily was too surprised for a moment to move. “Roll over,” said Belphagor, with utter calm.
“What?”
“On your stomach.” Belphagor climbed off and stood. “Or get out.”
“Why?” The air felt trapped in his lungs, as if he couldn’t breathe out. “What are you going to do?”
“Roll over,” Belphagor repeated. “Or get out.” The dark eyes were unreadable.
Vasily stared up at him a moment longer, trying to catch his breath. He ought to just get up. The tattooed sonofabitch could go fuck himself. He rolled over, the pounding in his chest increasing. Nothing happened. “What are you—?”
“Pull down your pants.”
Vasily shivered. “Why?” His voice had gone very thick, as if he couldn’t quite get it out.
“I’m not going to ask you again.”
Vasily bit his lip and began unbuttoning the jeans. He took his time, one warm, riveted button after the other. Belphagor didn’t make a sound behind him. Vasily lifted his hips and wiggled the fabric down to his thighs and lay breathing shallowly into the blanket, waiting.
“Shorts,” snapped Belphagor.
Vasily’s breath quickened as he slid the boxers over his cock and bared his ass. His cock was so hard it hurt. Again, he waited. From the stillness behind him he thought for a moment Belphagor had somehow slipped out without him knowing, and he turned his head, but Belphagor’s hand was there, swift and firm, turning his face to the blanket. Vasily lay still while the hand moved down his shoulder and back, unable to stifle a gasp as it paused on his bare flesh.
“Damn,” Belphagor whispered, and then struck him with the flat of his palm so dead-on that the retort startled Vasily before the brutal sting of it registered.
Vasily bit the blanket tightly and hissed between his teeth, not wanting to give Belphagor the satisfaction of crying out. But the hand was brushing softly over the throbbing heat of the spot it had struck, barely touching. Vasily squirmed against the blanket as Belphagor’s palm moved and hovered over the other cheek. He could feel the heat in the callused hand as well, radiating from it like Vasily’s element. Vasily’s cock rubbed against the rough blanket as he squirmed, and he groaned at the delicious friction of it.
Belphagor leaned down and whispered at his ear. “What’s the matter, malchik?” There was something in the way the demon said this word, the Russian for “boy,” that made Vasily quiver and ache inexplicably.
“Please,” he gasped, wriggling and pushing into the harsh fabric.
“What do you want?”
“More,” he breathed.
The blazing speed and blunt force of the hand on his bared cheek thrust him forward against the cot and Vasily gave a startled shout as the pent-up heat in his cock shot against his stomach without warning. He moaned and writhed as it shuddered out of him while Belphagor’s rough hand stroked the place he’d struck.
“Sweet boy,” whispered Belphagor. “Was that all it took?”
“I’m sorry,” Vasily gasped into the blanket. “Please. You can fuck me anyway.”
Belphagor chuckled deep in his throat as he straddled Vasily fully clothed. “Oh, can I?” He stretched himself against Vasily’s body and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “That’s very generous of you.”
He could feel Belphagor’s hardness pressed against him through the fabric of his pants, and he trembled at the thought of being taken by him.
“Not yet,” Belphagor murmured at his ear.
The refusal in the face of the demon’s obvious arousal confounded him; Belphagor had let him stay and yet avoided his touch ever since, sleeping on the floor and keeping his distance. It was maddening.
“Don’t you want me?”
Belphagor’s arms tightened around him. “Oh, yes, malchik,” he whispered.
“Then why? Why won’t you?”
“Because,” said Belphagor, as if his words made perfect sense. “I want you.” Vasily growled beneath him in frustration and Belphagor chuckled again and kissed his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “I don’t want you to leave me,” Belphagor admitted, resting his cheek against Vasily’s.
“I’m not!” Vasily exclaimed. “I won’t! I swear it!”
Belphagor kissed his cheek. “We’ll see, malchik.” His arms tightened further, hurting him just a bit. “In the meantime, who taught you that word?”
“What word?” Vasily pushed back against him in exasperation. “Khui? What’s the matter with it? It’s just cock!”
“No,” said Belphagor. “The other.” He paused for a moment and then bit out the word as if it soiled his mouth. “Suka.”
Vasily tried to turn in his arms, but Belphagor wouldn’t let him. “I don’t remember.”
“Did you let angels buy you?”
Vasily shrugged. “Maybe. Yes, I suppose. Once or twice.”
“Never again, do you hear me?” There was no arguing with that stony insistence. “Angels are not to touch you, and you are never to say that word again.” Belphagor shook him. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I promise. I won’t.”
Belphagor released his hold and brought one hand up to tuck Vasily’s hair behind his ear, letting his fingers linger at his temple. “Khorosho, malchik. Khorosho.”
Jane Kindred is the author of the Harlequin Nocturne series Sisters in Sin and of epic fantasy series The House of Arkhangel’sk, Demons of Elysium, and Looking Glass Gods. She spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while her cat slowly but surely edges her off the side of the bed.
