Who enjoys erotica? Who enjoys winning stuff? If you like both those things, this may just be your lucky day. Not only do I have an excerpt from the new erotica from Cleis Press. Cover Him with Darkness is a paranormal romance that sounds intriguing and hot!
If You Loved an Angel… How Far Would You Fall with Him?
What happens when the daughter of the village priest falls in love with an archangel banished from heaven? Milja’s heart is struck when she catches a glimpse of the preternaturally beautiful prisoner her father keeps captive beneath his church’s altar. Torn between tradition, loyalty and her growing obsession with the fallen angel, will Milja risk losing her family, and her eternal soul, for the love of this divine being? Janine Ashbless will transport you to a world where good and evil battle for true love.
Have we got your attention? Good. Here’s a bit more for you.
Everything was familiar, and yet everything was strange. I was seeing now with the eyes of a foreigner: the cramped little buildings wedged under the brow of the cliff, with the domestic rooms crammed against the church in peculiar proximity. Even the steps themselves—two hundred rock-cut rises at the end of a dusty track. When I was young I had run up and down them every day without a thought, but now I was ashamed to find that my thighs ached and my breath came short.
I couldn’t face the church and what lay beneath it straightaway, so I went into the house first, using the key Father had left me. Nothing had changed, and yet…everything had. I knew the pattern on the rug before the fireplace and the contents of the dresser drawer on the left and every one of the books in Father’s study; I knew the shabby winter coat hanging behind the door and the chipped ewer in the center of the table (I’d dropped it when I was thirteen and we’d never found that piece of the lip). But my old room was empty and smelled of plaster dust, and the quilted coverlet on the bed, which I remembered as a vibrant patchwork of flower shapes, looked faded and cheap. I couldn’t have grown much taller since eighteen, but the roof felt lower.
I hadn’t realized we were so poor. My friends in America would hardly believe anyone could live like this, without Internet or a washing machine or cable. Forget dishwashers; our house didn’t even have piped hot water—we collected rain in a cistern up in the cliff face. Down in the village at least they had electricity and solar panels and television. Up on our crag here we were still lighting kerosene lamps and cooking in a log-fired oven.
I wandered around the house, touching things at random. I wound the clock and set it to the time specified by my otherwise-useless phone. I put the single plate on the table away in the cupboard. There was a covered pot on the stove-top, but when I lifted the lid the smell of rotted beans turned my stomach. So I sat down at the table and gripped my hands together. This was my home, but I did not feel at home here. The dissonance made my head ache: inside, I was a happy child and an aching teenager and a grown woman of twenty-three, all at the same time. I was part of this place, and I was a foreigner. I had returned to the home I loved, and yet I was an intruder.
My gaze shifted to the spines of the books in the case. Even from here I was sure I could recognize and name each one, just from their colors and shapes. As a game, I began to work my way across a shelf: Modern Engineering Principles and Practices…The Homilies of St. Macarius…The Mountains of Serbia …First Steps in English (from which Father had taught me: British English, not American English, taps not faucets)…The Child’s Encyclopedia volumes Two, Three and Four (but not One, which I’d dropped being chased home from school one day and never recovered)…a Bible…The Book of Enoch…
Cover him with darkness, that he may remain there forever.
Forever. Down there in the mountain behind me, bound hand and foot. Had he noticed that the priest had stopped visiting? Did he realize that he’d been abandoned by the man now, just as the girl had abandoned him years ago? Had he called out, unheard, with only the echoes standing in witness to his pleas? Had he missed the food and the drink that I no longer brought him, the touch of my hands, those tiny mercies in an eternity of suffering? Had I made it worse by offering him ease, then depriving him again just as he learned to hope?
The sun-patch thrown on the flagstones by the small kitchen window had disappeared, as the shadow of the cliff above shifted. I shook myself from my trance and rose from the chair.
Fear was no longer an excuse.
Now for the fun part! Thanks for Cleis Press, you have the opportunity to win a copy of Cover Him With Darkness. Simply enter below and this book could be yours. Good luck!
Open to Canadian and US residents. You have until midnight on Halloween to win this supernatural erotic novel.