Today on the blog, I'm happy to have with me Cari Silverwood! Other than her fabulous name - though she doesn't spell it right LOL - she's also an amazing person and author! Join me in welcoming her!!!
Hi, I’m Cari Silverwood, I write erotic romances with a BDSM spin. I thought this interview of Sten, my hero from my steampunk book, Lust Plague, would be a nice way to introduce the feel of the book…or at least the feel of Sten.
Hot on the trail of rumors of a vast area of deepest Europe being depopulated by a deadly zombie plague, we sent our intrepid reporter, Joanne Vax, to London airfield to interview survivors. Here is her exclusive report, transcribed live.
Many of the survivors refused to talk to me but they did refer me to one man, Sten, who is a frankenstruct – from a clone line that was given double-muscling and extreme warrior characteristics. I decided to track him down but tread carefully. Getting my head chewed off wasn’t on my list of things to do.
I found him checking the underside of an airship, the Princess Kay. The wind gusts tore at my notepad, flapping the sheets, and roaring in my ears. He’s a very big man and wearing a plain navy woolen shirt with short sleeves and dark gray trousers. The large weapon sheathed at his back appears to be a shotgun. When
I’m a few feet away his single gold earring resolves into a wolf’s head.
“Mr. Sten?” I grip a page that tries to tear free. “Sorry, I don’t know your last name!”
He stares at me while curled strands of his sandy hair whip across his forehead.
“Um…” Right, no last name. I draw a shaky line across that question.
“I was wondering, sir, if you’d answer a few questions regarding the rumors about a plague.” Caught by the cold, I hug myself, shiver, and rub my upper arms.
When he reaches up toward that shotgun butt and scratches his head, I jump. I never liked guns.
“Well.” The depth of his voice surprises me, all the way down to my toes. He screws up his face, then shrugs. “If you want to come with me while I check the Princess Kay, I’ll do my best. But no questions about any plague.” He grins.
None? Hell. Is it a secret then? Hmm. Maybe I can sneak some in. “Okay.
I pump more ink into my fountain pen, ready to write. Asking questions while trailing along behind is odd,
yet nice. I get to admire his broad shoulders. The man’s handsome in a rough and ready way. He seems to
be poking every nook and cranny up there. Why, I have no idea.
“I’ve heard, sir, that you fell in love with an airship captain, a Kaysana Onomi? Can you tell me what your favorite thing is about her?”
He sniffs, then tosses his reply back. “Her hair – it’s beautiful. Like black silk. Oh, and the way she can tear a new asshole in anyone who annoys her. Sooo sexy.”
Uh. Really? I must remember that one for my next boyfriend. “And” – I skip over a nest of large hoses piled on the tarmac – “and her most annoying trait?”
“Same! Because sometimes she tries it on me.” He sends a dark look at me over his shoulder. “And then I take her by the hair, hold her against a wall and pinch her nipples until she squeaks. “Hehe. Damn fun.”
I swallow. I think my panties just got wet.
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
“Fuck! What a question! Privacy, woman. Next!”
And now my hands are shaking again. I stare at the next question: What sexual talent of Kaysana’s is your favorite? No way. I scribble that one out.
“Right,” I mutter. “If there was something you could change about the first few weeks you knew Kaysana, what would it be?”
“Wooo. Uh. Less death, less people dying. Yeah that one. Maybe a holiday on the beach would have been nicer.”
Sneaky question time, Jo. Go for it. I nibble my lip. “So, these dead wouldn’t have been zombies, would they?”
His look is icy as a blizzard. “Bad question, Joanne. They were dead. Dead is always not good. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper while furiously nodding. Back away slow. “Um. Which do you prefer, coffee, tea, or something else?” Extract of cobra venom…napalm…blood of stupid reporter? I half-expect one of those.
God. A normal answer. How strange.
“What addiction can you not live without?”
His footsteps slow and he gazes off into the distance for a while. There’s only a gray London fog, so I know he’s thinking.
Just the reserve cargo hold. No one’s been in there since the ship got retrieved in Tibet.
“Oh.” Tibet – according to rumor, that was the dead center of this non-existent plague. I grip my pen tightly, like I can maybe use it to skewer anything dangerous that pops up.
I watch as he slides his shotgun free and flicks off some catch. He spins the middle gold chamber. I see the ends of bullets glint as they roll past. “Are we…safe?”
“Sure.” He uses a long hooked stick to undo the catch on the cargo bay above us. The door folds down with a hiss of hydraulics and something man-sized falls out.
“Run!” Sten yells.
After one mind-melting scream I bolt back over the tarpaulins and cower there, hiding.
The thing rises from the ground snarling. Gore and yellow ooze drips from the man’s open mouth. Something catches my eye. His mouth isn’t open, he has no lower jaw. The smell of putrid flesh rolls over me like a fat cloud, so thick I can taste it on my tongue. I retch.
“Damn.” Sten sighs, lifts his shotgun.
The thing lunges for him. Its blackened fingers flop backward as if hinged the wrong way.
Sten pulls the trigger. The boom of the gun deafens me and echoes. When I look up the thing is on the ground in pieces. One last grope from its dismembered hand – I hear the fingernails scrape on the tarpaulin a foot from my nose – then it ceases to move. My heart is pounding so loudly I think it wants to leave home.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Sten announces. He flips a loose piece of tarp over the body and the pieces. “Any more questions?”
My teeth chatter a little before I choke the words out. “What…what do you most fear?” It’s a question on my list and so damn right just then.
“Oooh. Snakes? Yeah, snakes.”
I try not to look bug-eyed. “Not zombies?”
“Hah! Zombies? They don’t exist.” Grinning, he plants his foot right on the biggest bulge in the tarp. It squelches. “Do they, Miss Vax?”
“Good answer. Very. Good. Answer.”
I smile stiffly then shake the hand he offers. I am never ever visiting Tibet.
Blurb: Saving the world should be easier.
When airship captain Kaysana meets Sten, the last thing she wants to do is have mad rough sex with him while bound by ropes and clamps but fate pencils in their appointment. The lust plague strikes. From her infected crew, zombies arise.
With her ship gone, she must rely on Sten, a human clone, a man who has fought all his life to master himself. She despises his kind and detests Sten’s growing hold on her. Though he never takes no for an answer, surely it’s the plague that makes yes slip from her tongue like melted butter? Or should she blame her own traitorous heart?
Hordes of slavering zombies await them. Sten and Kaysana unlimber weapons, don goggles, and set a course for the origin of the plague. Yet their victory will be hollow if they cannot also solve the puzzle of their hearts.
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and elements, exhibitionism, spanking, strong violence.
“Stay still,” Sten said quietly, firmly, then put his hand to her bare back and felt her jerk at the press of skin to skin. The transformation made his dick quiver as always, and damn, he was already hard. The way Kaysana’s face changed fascinated him. It was like watching a flower unfurl. The hardness, the wariness, drained away. Instead she looked at him with adoration and acceptance in those toffee brown eyes.
Yet after a few seconds, he saw awareness return. This is new. She’s resisting this thing that affects us. He didn’t bother trying to resist anymore. He wanted her, knew he would’ve anyway. This just made it easier. The Zen let him see the truth. Having Kaysana kneel at his feet -- this was his fantasy, want, need…whatever. Having her want him back sent his libido soaring into the stratosphere. Done deal.
The intriguing thing was watching her wriggle to get out of it. To deny her needs.
“Come.” He tugged, then towed her to the front of the rooftop by the leash wrapped in his hand.
“Sit here. Stop trying to push me away. You’re right. Last time I touched you, those zombies zeroed in on us like flies to…” Blood.
Keep your shit focused. Zone them out. Zen, man, Zen. Took him a few hard seconds, but he managed. He had to. Their lives depended on this working. The difficult bit was keeping her in a mental space where she forgot.
At the touch of his hand on her shoulder, she sighed. Quivering with need already? Her smart, thinking side was clearly miles away. He spread his fingers on her warm skin and smiled.
If not for the effects of the plague, this would never have worked. The zombies waiting below to rip them apart weren’t exactly love potion ingredients.
Sten pressed his palm on her nape, made her kneel, turned the leash around his fist until his knuckles brushed the angle of her throat and jaw. He bent down, staring at her. Her gaze went all gooey, her pupils dilating, gorgeous -- if he could’ve bottled that, he would’ve.
“Let’s kiss,” he murmured.
The feel of her soft lips under his near unhinged him. Their hot breaths mingled as he explored her mouth. At first passive, then she struggled a little and tried to pull away. With his hands at her neck and throat, he held her to him. “No,” he whispered, licking the corner of her mouth. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”
Then he crushed her resistance, shoving his tongue between her lips, taking over her mouth with his while he slid his fingers into her hair. He turned his hand to screw those fingers into the roots, wrapping hair about each finger -- harder, tighter. When she gasped and her mouth fell open, he knew he had her. He kept at her. Not until she moaned uncontrollably into his mouth did he let up and slowly lift away.