Ardent

It sounded like something from one of the graphic novels Jaime Anderson aspires to create, but Arden Kaller is real. Once the lover of Jaime's older brother, his blood coats Jaime's lips the first night he hits town when he heals him after Jaime is involved in an altercation in a brick-lined alley. Arden has spent long years studying his amphora, his pot shards. How can a small town boy exert such a hold on him? But it isn't long before he tricks Jaime into wearing his mystical token.

Jaime's life is complicated enough just handling classes. Now his guitar-playing friend Mondo turns out to be a werewolf who wants Jaime to be his-and then there is Arden, his dark, dangerous, and slightly nerdy vampire lover.

Passion and excitement from the first page to the last. Ardent offers great characters and a plot packed with tension and drama. Ardent has a vivid and memorable storyline as readers figure out who is honorable and who is not. Jaime is a gifted artist surrounded by things that go bump in the night while Arden attempts to prove that not all vampires have to give in to their demon side. Entertaining and sensual, Ardent is irresistible--Lisa at Joyfully Reviewed.

Available here from Man Love Romance Press.

Excerpt from Ardent

Arden Kaller leaned against a brick wall, his favorite battered leather trench coat tight around his slim waist, long black hair swept back from his face, eyes closed…fighting tears…and waiting for nightfall, for someone stupid enough to walk into the shadows that hid a demon.

Arden, keep him safe for me.

His eyes burned and he snorted out a laugh. Pathetic. Some dark, dangerous villain he was, stuck in this one-coffee-and-donut- shop town. He wanted to hurt someone; he wanted to give into his true nature.

Instead he’d followed a teasing scent trail.

He opened his eyes and stared through the glasses that disguised his enlarged hunter’s pupils, watching as the human he’d tracked approached. He watched a group of college boys engaged in a standoff, their fresh-faced innocence stimulating his need so he wondered which one he’d taste. He wouldn’t kill anyone— it was too messy and he was a fastidious man.

One immediately caught his eye: a slender and familiar-looking young man with a scarecrow-awkward build. It seemed like his arms and legs had been attached by different bits of straw rather than his torso. His hair was the color of smooth milk chocolate and hard, snapping almond-shaped eyes glared out at the world.

Despite his slight size, he was mouthing off to a taller, muscled youth with red hair.

Shit.

“Still tilting at windmills, little one?” Arden growled. The name had suited Jaime when he was sixteen and following Arden and Derek everywhere. Now it struck Arden as having a sexual resonance.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his forearm against his eyes, taking away the embarrassing residue of tears. Another deep breath and he was himself again. He was back in town. He had kept his promise another year. He would not give into his desire. He would not claim Jaime. But…he’d missed him.

“You little shit, Anderson, you were sketching my dick again, weren’t you?”

Jaime lifted a crumpled sketch pad from the muddy sidewalk, cocking a dark brow in contempt. “I wouldn’t need to devote a whole page for your dick, Larry.”

One of the redhead’s pals stifled laughter. Larry was too stupid to see what he’d roused, but Arden was riveted. He took in the bruise forming on Jaime’s cheek, the passion in his tilted dark eyes.

I want to taste him.

Sex dazed, Arden watched as his spirited Jaime tackled Larry. They rolled...and wound up in Arden’s alley.

Arden’s eyes narrowed.

How unfortunate. For someone.

He stepped forward, teeth lengthening, his gaze fixing on Jaime, who had cracked his head against the brick wall. Jaime shook his head, looking slightly out of it. Arden wanted to say something smooth, like “Hello, kid. You miss me?”

Instead, somewhere lodged in his throat the word “please” was stuck.

Please forgive me. Please let me touch you.

Jesus.

The group of young men had followed to continue harassing the outcast but they stepped back uneasily at Arden’s flat, animal stare as he removed his glasses. Suddenly, the alley was deserted, save for Arden, Larry, and Jaime.

Larry was staring at Arden. “What do you want, Mister?”

Mister? How depressing. Did he appear like a “mister” to Jaime also? He was only thirty…and some three hundred years and change on top of that. Arden could see the bully wasn’t oblivious to the vibe of a real predator. Arden reached out easily, still smiling, yanked Larry close and bit his neck.

“You… God!” Larry choked, rubbing himself against Arden.

Blood. The smell, the taste.

Jaime sat up, arms wrapped around his ribs. “Wha—?” His face darkened as he made out Arden. Pain lived in the almond shaped eyes. “You.”

Arden let Larry drop. He wanted to tangle his fist in Jaime’s hair, rub his cheek against that silken texture then take his time in introducing him to a kiss. His tongue would taste that untouched mouth, before inevitably his lips burned a path down to the pulse beating frantically in Jaime’s neck.

Instead, he knelt beside him, reaching out and touching Jaime’s arm with his rough archeologist’s hands. “You’re hurt,” he said gruffly.

“Why do you always come back?” Jaime swallowed. He covered his eyes for a moment and Arden knew he was fighting tears.

It hurt when they were together again. It hurt when they were apart.

“I’m your friend.” Arden firmly ran his hands gently over Jaime’s sides, pressed, and felt where there was some give. Jaime paled and looked like he was going to pass out, his angry eyes full of unshed tears.

His nostrils flared, and he was unable to stop himself from breathing in warm, vulnerable Jaime.

Jaime seemed oblivious, as if no one had ever wanted to lay that scarecrow body out and taste every part of it. He shook his head, as if still groggy. “Uh, what happened to Larry?”

Arden looked over at the heap of flesh, partially hidden by trash cans. He could make out a faint heartbeat; Larry was sleeping off the bite. “He took off,” he lied. “You need to get those ribs seen to.”

“I can’t. Kind of between jobs,” Jaime explained, flushing under Arden’s quizzical gaze.

“Well, I can heal you.”

“Arden…” Jaime tried to pull away. “I’m twenty years old. I don’t need your help anymore.”

Arden’s jaw tightened. What could he say after what he’d let happen two years ago? “Let me help you.” Arden shifted closer, so that he was inside the envelope of Jaime’s primal body warmth.

“I don’t know.” But Jaime didn’t leave. He waited, watched, his dark eyes curious.

Arden remembered that Jaime’s older brother, Derek, had also possessed that curiosity. It was the first thing that had attracted him.

He picked up a sharp-edged rock from the alley floor and used it to open one wrist. Blood dripped on asphalt, potent and sizzling as it made contact.

“Arden, geez.”

He reached out with his dripping hand, cupping Jaime’s face, smearing blood on it, as if marking his human. He actually felt a little dizzy—ouch!—it hurt to cut open your wrist with a rock even if you were a badass vampire.

Better to stick to the script. “Taste me.” Uh, not that script. Arden took a deep breath. “I want you to.”

Jaime shook his head, but Arden crowded him close to the wall and put his bleeding wound to Jaime’s lips. Had he ever even been kissed?

Almond-shaped eyes weighed him and Arden knew Jaime had been. He wanted to kill whoever had done it.

Jaime’s lips parted, coated with Arden’s ancient blood. He tentatively licked his wrist and Arden shuddered at the sensation.

Copywrite: Jan Irving

Available from Man Love Romance Press here.

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