#Read #Urbanfantasy #WIP #Excerpt – Sleepy Willow’s Redeemed Soul – Coming Oct. 25th.

SLEEPY WILLOW’S REDEEMED SOUL (The Narcoleptic Vampire Series, Vol. 4)

Release date: October 25, 2016.

Redemption: Where the end is just the beginning.


**And…Dicey’s usual 18+ [Adults only] warning applies.**


SleepyWillow'sRedeemedSoul.Ebook.AmazonChapter 1

There couldn’t possibly be any one single thing I enjoyed more on God’s green earth than being snuggled between these two perfect male bodies. Absolutely nothing compared to bathing in a sea of muscles, smooth flesh, fresh male musky scent, and—

“Willooow,” a strange voice whispered.

—little tickles of fine hair. Mmmm. These were the best moments of my afterlife.

The steady heartbeat under my fingertips set the perfect background noise for deep sleeping.


Shit. Not again.

“Willow,” the voice whispered again, “come to me.”

I shook off the whisper and rolled from my right to my left side, which meant my thigh went from draping over a warm body to a cold one. I went from a body full of fresh, pumping blood, to another one full of magic and someone else’s blood. I still felt contentment, being sandwiched between them. And irritation at having my sleep interrupted. If I could just ignore the voice…

Moments passed, and I began to drift back to sleep. Sleeping between these two amounted to a thick slice of velvety Heav—

“Willlllooooowwwww.” The whisper seemed more urgent. “I’m ready for you.”

“Go away,” I groaned, sick of being awakened by this faceless voice.

I scratched my neck then rested my hand back in Conda’s hair. I liked tousling his hair. But I hated being awakened by unknown voices. For someone with my sleep issues, having my sleep disturbed was really the worst kind of torture.

As I tried to get comfortable and back to sleep, the next call came more urgent, less whispery, and not androgynous. Determined to wake me, the decidedly strong male voice came in loud and clear, “I’m ready for you. Come to me when you’re ready.” Ah, fuck off. I was really close to ignoring it again, but “Come to meeeee!” rang smack dab in my ear, and I jumped up. A pair of lips had touched my ear and blown the stray hairs around it.

I didn’t just sit straight up in bed; I jumped clean from the bed to the other side of the room, clutching my gown up to my neck. Eyes bucked, looking around the room for the phantom, I discovered no one there other than my lovers.

“Willow, what’s wrong?” Aaron grabbed his underwear from the floor next to the bed and put them on, never taking his eyes off mine. “Why do you look scared?”

Uh… “Because someone keeps calling me, and it’s not you or Conda, and…” I looked from Aaron to Conda and back to Aaron “…it’s not telepathic. He touched me this time.”

“He?” Aaron looked concerned.

I nodded. “Definitely a he.”

Conda sat up in the bed next to Aaron, looking disoriented and maybe a tad annoyed. He’d had a late shift in Hades’s Voyeur Room, where people paid to watch him perform solo sexual acts. He was tired of me waking him with this unverifiable nonsense. “Come back to bed, baby. It feels early in the day.”

I looked around the candlelit bedroom I shared with them. No one else was present, not physically or otherwise. But there was no doubt in my mind that someone had come in the room and awakened me. Again. And this time he’d touched me to get my attention. “Ivan? Is that you?” My friendly ghost ex-boyfriend had gotten pretty good at going in and out of corporeal and noncorporeal states.

But he didn’t answer.

And I wasn’t surprised. I would have recognized his voice.

Max, is that you?

No answer.

Again—no surprise, though I did feel disappointment. After years of chasing and taunting me through our metaphysical bond, my former maistre vampire had shut off our mental connection completely. I’d severed our blood bond using ritual magic and by becoming my own maistress. He’d gone a step further and abandoned me.

I had the nerve to feel sad about it…after resenting him for so long. To be shamefully honest—I missed him.

“Willow, are you okay?” Aaron walked towards me with outstretched arms. “This has been going on for a while. Is the voice—is he—saying anything different?”

“Nope. He just keeps calling me, telling me to come.”

“Why can’t we hear it?” Aaron looked at Conda and opened both hands to show his helplessness. “He’s obviously supernatural. Conda should be able to hear him, at least.”

“I don’t know.” I trembled and looked at the floor. This time, I hadn’t just been startled from my sleep. I’d been touched…by a he that showed no signs of giving up his beckoning call any time soon.

“That’s weird.” Aaron wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me close until my tremors began to subside. “He didn’t touch you inappropriately, did he?”

I shook my head. The touch had been light, just enough to say ta da—look what I can do.

“Wow. That’s really weird.” Aaron squeezed me tighter. “I’m here for you. We’ll figure it out.”

Yes, it was weird…which was saying something in my world. This was the sixth time I’d been awakened by that same voice this week alone. The voice had been calling me at the most inopportune times for months. It didn’t say much, just kept beckoning me to come. Using a neutral tone, giving no indication of whether he was friend or foe. It made me feel uncomfortable, but not entirely threatened.

I watched as Conda slid the comforter down below his hips until he exposed his personal comforter and began sliding his hand along the ridged, veiny side. While Aaron used soothing words and hug reassurances, Conda had a different, equally effective way of comforting me that involved physical intimacy of the deep stroke variety.

“If the voice is telling you to come,” his voice dropped an octave, “I can help with that.” Conda slid from the bed like a snake, beguiling and sensual, until he approached from behind Aaron.

I didn’t have the energy to tell Conda how unnerved the voice had made me this time, and how commanding come to me had really been. It had felt like a demand, coming from a place of entitlement. Of ownership. I was certain the voice did not mean for me to have an orgasm.


Disengaging myself from Aaron’s embrace, I hiked up my gown, turned away from them, bent over and grabbed my ankles. I’d accepted my wantonness some time ago and made no apologies for it. I would never turn down the pleasure Conda could and would provide. Not even on my worst day.

Conda plunged in without hesitation until his waxed balls touched my hairy lower lips and I could damn near feel him in the back of my throat. His pumping hips, with their familiar rhythm had me near climax in a matter of seconds. Aaron leaned in with one hand on my clit as I rode the first wave of anxiety and stress relief. True to Conda-form, Conda didn’t stop there. He kept going until my knees began to shake and my fingernails began to dig in my feet. Aaron put his other wrist to my mouth, and I struck him with the same fierceness Conda struck me.

Taunting laughter erupted suddenly from across the room and the phantom’s voice followed. “Sex with Conda and blood from Aaron will not bring you redemption,” he said. “But I can.”

I screamed as the glowing white figure flashed near the bathroom door and disappeared. Aaron jerked his wrist back as his blood wasted onto the floor.

Conda, thinking I’d had an intense orgasm, let himself go into bliss, clutching my thighs as he unloaded streams of semen inside me.

Only Aaron had noticed my reaction was not typical for the moment. Aaron held onto me as Conda let me go. A question molded Aaron’s face. “What happened?”

I covered my face with my hands in shame. “I saw him. He flashed in the room.”

“Who is he?” Aaron asked in frustration. “Why does he want you to go to him?”

“I don’t know.”

Conda went to the bathroom, started the shower water, and returned to the bedroom. “Who flashed in the room?”

“The voice,” I sighed. “He said neither of you could bring me redemption, but he could.”

Aaron and Conda exchanged glances.

I was just as confused as they were.

“Redemption?” Conda looked puzzled. “Wait—are you saying God appeared to you?” The hedonist in him hadn’t believe in God until after the Rapture. Now, he just didn’t care one way or the other about God. He only humored me with deity conversation, because he knew how much religion meant to me.

I shrugged. “Yeah…I guess.” God was the only one who could wash away my sins with the blood of his son and redeem my damned soul, so it had to have been him. “Except….” I wasn’t satisfied with that conclusion. For one, the entity in the room annoyed me more than made me feel at ease. God wouldn’t pester me, would he? “God would bring joy and peace and love and—”

“Longsuffering,” the voice said from near the bathroom again. “God would also bring you chaos, war, blind faith, unquestionable obedience, intolerance, ignorance…”

What a weird thing for God to say. He wouldn’t gain anyone’s trust talking that way. Something felt eerie about this. His offer of redemption directly conflicted with his list of Godly attributes. I should just return to ignoring the voice since Conda and Aaron couldn’t hear him anyway. What was the point of ruining our daylight hours over phantom whispers and riddles? It…he would go away. “God just wasn’t the way I imagined he would be.”

“Gods never are.” Conda laughed and shut the bathroom door so he could shower.

It wasn’t funny to me. “He also knew both of your names, Aaron.” I cast my eyes down to the floor, knowing how absurd it all sounded. I considered getting in the shower with Conda and forgetting about this unwanted intruder.

“Well, that would be understandable if he was God, right, but…” Aaron sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me with him.

“God, my ass,” Conda shouted from the shower. His sensitive hearing kept him engaged in the conversation. “If he’s God, I’m the Easter Bunny,” he laughed. “I mean, what’s with all the coded talk and the wakey-wakey act at all times of day? Nah. I’ll bet this is just some invisible supernatural playing a prank on you. Maybe another ghost.”

“The room’s warded though. No one’s supposed to get in without an invitation now.” I opened the door leading to the corridor and confirmed the markings at the threshold were still there. Nope. An invisible man had not penetrated our threshold ward and stumbled into our territory.

“Or…” Aaron took both of my hands in his and rubbed them. “Maybe it’s time for you to see someone…professionally, I mean. To find out what’s really going on, Willow.”

I looked into his pools of silvery blue and smiled. I couldn’t be insulted by the suggestion coming from him considering his own stints with mental health disorders. If anyone knew the signs of psychosis, he probably did. Plus, Aaron’s concern was one of the things I loved most about him. Perhaps the time had come to question my mental acumen. Considering how long it had been since I’d seen my therapist, Dr. Floyd, perhaps I needed a checkup. Then again, perhaps I had not fully healed since Dr. Dougie performed my last organ transplant to his human ally blood donor. I could probably use some fine-tuning, if not an overhaul and recalibration of my system.

I loved both Conda and Aaron…and Remi, though he was currently unavailable. We all had a great thing going, and if getting some help would bring some peace to our time together, I needed to make more of an effort toward getting that help.

“I think you’re right.” Because what if this was the onset of schizophrenia? I kept hearing a voice no one else could hear. It had progressed to the point of seeing and feeling him. “Maybe I do need help, Aaron.”

So did getting help mean I needed to see an MD, PhD, witch, psychic, pastor…? Did I start with Dr. Floyd, the doctor who’d been like a father to me, or someone else? Who had the right gift, skill, and tactic to help me at this very moment? Who would be most sensitive to my different layers and be able to provide a holistic approach? The dilemma troubled me already.

“I can help you, Willow.” A sharp edge clawed down the side of my face. “Come to me for redemption.”

Shiiiit! I almost left my skin when I jumped this time.

“Is the voice back?” Aaron grabbed my shoulders and shouted, “Willow! Ask him who he is and what he wants.”

Huh? Oh, yeah. Aaron had a point. Ignoring the phantom wouldn’t work. I needed answers. “Who are you?” I looked aimlessly around the room for wherever the bright light would flash next.

It slowly began to form and take shape next to Aaron, except Aaron kept his eyes on me, totally unaware.

“Star,” the phantom whispered through faded pink lips. “My name is Star.”

A chill ran down my spine. With all the early morning wakeups, I had a bad feeling he meant Morning Star. “Well, Star. What do you want with me? What can I do for you?”

He laughed. “Nothing. It’s what I can do for you—give you the redemption your heartless chest desires.”

I folded my arms. He didn’t scare me. Not when I could clearly see the shape of an anatomically normal male figure glowing in the dark. “There’s only one way I’m getting redemption, and that’s by earning my way to God’s redemption. I’m going to be saved by his grace.”

“No, you are not.”

Okaaay. My whole body stilled. I stared bug-eyed. “Why not?”

Aaron almost spoke out of concern for my one-sided conversation, but stopped when I held up a hand to wave off his questions. Star and I were finally getting to the good stuff.

“Because I am your redeemer…your morning star.” Star spoke as if that made all the sense in the world.

Morning Star. I shook my head in disbelief. I’d grown up southern Baptist, believing God sent his son, Jesus, to die on the cross for my sins. Then I’d given up my soul in exchange for magical reanimation and learned a bunch of prophecies that involved me being instrumental in the End of Days. Now, the Devil was in my bedroom pretty much telling me he was going to save my soul from…God. Nobody’s luck ran as bad as mine.

“My redeemer? What do you mean? Redeem me from what? Only God can save me from my sins.”

“You keep saying that.” Star intertwined his fingers and spoke with ancient patience. “Truth is, only I can redeem your mind. Only I can show you what he doesn’t want you to know—that there are no sins. You don’t need salvation. You need emancipation from your indoctrination.”

“Willow…” Aaron shook my arm. “I’m worried. What’s he saying?” Aaron shook my arm again. “Willow?”

I held up my index finger signaling for Aaron to hold on as I continued chatting with Star. “So, you’re the fallen angel? The Prince of Darkness of this world?”

“Yes. I am Lucifer.” He bowed low, way low then rose slowly. “And you are my chosen one.”

Grabbing Aaron’s phone from his hand, effectively prevented Aaron from completing his call for help. Star had all the answers I needed. “Chosen for what?”


My eyebrows raised in question.

“To lay with the man who has multiple souls, to birth the Antichrist into the world, to lead the demon army, to ascend to your throne in Hell. Surely, you must have studied it in the texts or at least guessed it by now. You must come to me for redemption.” Star tacked on a lopsided smile at the end.

No, no, no, no, nooooo. That was not how this was supposed to work. Not how any of it was supposed to work. This was some bullshit right here. I squeezed Aaron’s hand for reassurance that I was still in the physical realm. “B-b-but God is my redeemer.”

He shook his head and smiled, finding it funny that I still held on to that same line. “Yes. God is your redeemer.” He walked up to me and circled me once. “I am your God. And I will redeem you.” He stood next to me and lifted my chin with a warm, smooth hand. “I am here to relieve you of guilt. To absolve you of condemnation. To give you unconditional peace and acceptance in enjoying the carnal pleasures made available to you.” His thumbs rubbed both of my cheeks.

“Don’t ever touch me.” I snapped my head to the side to avoid the sense of being owned by Star.

He raised open palms out to the sides of my face as a gesture of acquiescence to my will. However, when he spoke, he carried authority and power. “It’s time for you to understand something, chosen one. The world as you know it is upside down. It’s backwards. The God you have worshipped and served is not what you think he is. The gospel as you have learned it, is incorrect. It is one-sided, corrupt, and biased. The Bible is not the true source of divination. The Book of Unbiblical Prophecies is the one true roadmap for the universe and mankind to follow. It is the true manuscript prepared by the deities, for we are many.” His glow began to fade. “Nothing is as it seems. Remember that.” He faded even more. His voice dropped to a whisper again. “I’m ready for you. Come to me when you are ready.” His glow faded until he vanished.

I took a half step back. Actually, it was a full blown stumble. “Go ahead and make the call, Aaron.” I handed his cell phone back.

“To Dr. Dougie? I was thinking maybe a CAT scan…maybe get your narcolepsy meds checked…”

Side-eying him, I realized Aaron and I weren’t on the same page in getting the help I really needed. I shook my head and rubbed my temples. “No, sweetie. Dr. Floyd.” I sank down to the floor next to the bed. “I need mental help, and I need it right now. Please call my therapist, Dr. Floyd. He’s the only one I trust to fix me.”

Thanks for reading. HopDicey_Box_Set 3D Covere you enjoyed. I will give details later of the mega release party coming in October.

I own the copyright. Do not steal my shit. None of it. Feel free to share Chapter 1 in its entirety only.

Read Volumes 1, 2, 3, 3.1, and 3.2, if you haven’t already. Here’s the box set. Check out my website for more books: http://www.diceygrenorbooks.com.


[#Sample Saturday] WOLF’S FIRE by Dicey Grenor~Sexy Excerpt.

SONY DSCI was just sitting here thinking that I hadn’t released an excerpt for WOLF’S FIRE (A Novella of The Narcoleptic Vampire Series Vol. 3.2) yet. Well, here goes.  Dicey’s standard warning applies: Rated M for mature audiences only. Beware if you are offended by graphic sex and profanity…in which case, you shouldn’t even be reading my blog. 😀


He palmed her ass cheeks and lifted them to meet his next thrust. He went deep. And deeper. He watched as her skin gradually turned a darker red. He just loved watching her flush. He could always tell how close she was by how red her white skin got. Her green eyes fluttered up to his and held his gaze. His eyes turned as amber as Ron Matusalem premium Dominican rum. “Where are you?” He knew, but he loved hearing her say how high he took her pleasure on a scale from one to ten.

“Nine and a half,” she whispered.

Okay, she was really close. That was hot. Really hot. She looked hot writhing under him. Her body felt hot tightening around him. It felt so good, but he had no desire to come, only to make her do it. He pulled out until he was between one to two inches in. He wanted to watch his head going in and out of her flushed pussy. Over and over. But more importantly, he wanted to hit that spot. Yes, that one. The one that would make her squirt her hot juice all over him. Then he’d stick his tongue and lips and nose down there and lick and sip and smell and bathe himself in everything she shot out.

He angled his hips just so to hit that spot just right. He hit it again. He picked up the stroking as she turned her head side to side begging him not to stop. Oh, she shouldn’t worry about that. He wouldn’t stop. Not until she trembled and bucked and screamed she couldn’t take anymore.

Oh, fuck. He started pounding her now. Just a little more. That’s all it would take. Right ther—

Bam! Bam! Bam!

What the…?

“No, no! Don’t stop. I’m almost there.” Her hips undulated to meet his, but his concentration was broken.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Same noise again. Was someone at the door? It certainly wasn’t their bed rocking. That thing had been welded to the wall and floor to accommodate the two animals that fucked on it.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“I’m sorry, baby. I gotta see what’s up.”

She started shaking with pent up tension and a tear slid down her eye. “Not now. Wait. Not yet. I need it.” She clutched at his arm.

He wiped the tear with his thumb. “I promise I’ll be right back. Think of it as delayed gratification. It’ll be even better later.”

He got up and stepped into some black boxer briefs, doing his best not to feel bad as he saw her trembling body roll to its side out of the corner of his eye.


Thanks for reading and sharing. ❤

This is the Amazon link. It’s available in ebook and paperback. Currently ten 5-star reviews.


Shout out to my hubby for posing as Punch. *mwah*

FRIENDS & FANTASIES, Chapter 1. In celebration of St. Patrick’s Day.

I’m not Irish (duh), and I’ve never been to Ireland (bummer). But my muse is currently leading me to write an Irish character as the male lead in my latest novel.

Say what?

Yeah. It surprised me too. But I’m always down for a challenge. Plus, my muse is hot like fire and will not leave me alone.

So Happy St. Patrick’s Day, whether you’re Irish or not, and enjoy chapter one of my upcoming contemporary romance novel, FRIENDS & FANTASIES. Look for it May 6th! **Updated on 5-8-14** The release date has been pushed back to “coming soon”. Sorry, that couldn’t be helped. The title has been improved to BEST FRIENDS, FANTASY LOVERS.

**Oh yeah…WARNING for profanity. I promise there’s no violence or sex in it though…yet.**

Chapter 1

Capri closed her eyes—just for a second—when next thing she knew, chairs began scraping across the tile floor, waking her as students filed out of the auditorium-size classroom. With the midterm coming up next week, there couldn’t have been a more inopportune time to nap. But dammit, she was tired. All those sleepless nights spent studying for the midterm she took last period were finally catching up to her.

Wiping drool from the side of her mouth, Capri looked next to her where Sasha’s head lay on a desk, her eyeballs swimming left to right under her eyelids as she dreamt of things Capri dared not even imagine. Asleep. As expected. After another long night of partying. Sasha wouldn’t even have shown up if it weren’t for the professor’s attendance policy, and that Sasha had already missed too many days. One more absence and she’d start dropping a letter grade. That did not bode well since Sasha’s parents had conditions on whether she continued to reside on campus. Grade conditions.

A new set of students were already marching in like a herd of cattle for the next class starting in ten minutes.

Capri kicked her sneaker into Sasha’s black boot, jerking her awake.

“What? What!” Sasha’s head spun around, her eyes struggling to focus on the chaotic swarm of students vacating and entering the classroom.

“We’re being invaded by aliens.” Capri zipped her books in her backpack, adjusted the waist of her low-riding jeans, and stood to leave. She paused for a moment while Sasha oriented herself with her Martian surroundings.

Sasha’s face went from shock to panic, confusion to skepticism, and finally— “Ah. You’re joking.” She swept hair from her eyes and started gathering her things. “You really have to learn to smile when you’re joking. Your poker face is hella creepy.”

Capri handed Sasha an ink pen that had fallen on the floor then hoisted her backpack to one shoulder. “And you really have to learn to pay attention in class.” Never mind that Capri had slept as well. At least she’d caught most of the review, which would come in handy. Capri would need the leverage for—

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen, so name your price.”


Capri was all about bartering. She didn’t have a lot of money and resources, but she had other valuables that Sasha did not. Like a serious attitude when it came to studying…and notes to study with.

“Let’s see…” Capri started towards the exit, pretending to think it over as she walked. “You can have my notes from today’s review if you give me a ride to work in the morning.” Capri could always walk or catch the university bus, but why be inconvenienced when her roommate had a car with heated seats and the early morning temperature would be somewhere around too-cold degrees? Helping Sasha ace another test would be worth it for the comfort of roundtrip curbside transportation. “I have to open the computer lab at nine. I’ll need you to pick me up too. Around six. That cool?”

“Cool.” Sasha, showing no signs of fatigue now that class had ended, caught up with Capri as they walked out into the brisk, cool morning. “Why do they insist on torturing us with shit we’ll never use in the real world anyway?”

Capri tucked both hands in her denim jacket pockets. “I think they just want us to prove we’re teachable. We’ll go before an employer, show our credentials and grades, and they’ll immediately know: I can teach this one how to do the job and they’ll do it well. This one, not so much.”

“No wonder I’m not interested. I don’t want a job.” Sasha swept her long stringy blond hair off her neck. She had a habit of doing that. “Hey, let’s go out tonight. Don’t you have the night off?”

Capri shook her head. “No way. I’m tired.” Being off of both jobs tonight was an early Christmas present. She intended to make the most of that time doing something she didn’t get to do much of—sleeping.

“Of course you are, Ben Stein.  All you do is work and study. That’s why we have to go out. It’s Friday night. Let’s make the best of it. You have the rest of the weekend to study.”

“Stop calling me that. And some of us have responsibilities. I have to work in the morning, remember?”

“So what? Down a Red Bull and you’ll be fine.”

Ha! Easy for Sasha to say. She’d be happy with a B in Psych 101. That’s all her parents expected of her. Capri didn’t come from a wealthy family like Sasha. Not working was not an option. She needed to have the best grades to get the best job.

Capri’s golden opportunity to have uninterrupted time to herself had come. “Or…you can go out, have a blast, and tell me all about it tomorrow.” Capri could actually get to bed early and wake up refreshed then study for next week’s exam while at work tomorrow. Working in the campus computer lab really was a great gig for a student. Her second job at the library wasn’t too bad either. Both were perfect places to study. Since she had to work all weekend, she’d get a lot of studying done and get paid for it.

Sasha was right. All Capri did was work and study. That’s all she could do if she wanted to be successful in life. And she did. Nothing would stand in the way of her dreams. She had it all planned out.

“Girl, you better live now while you’re young. Pretty soon you’ll have kids and saggy tits. You’ll wish you had taken advantage of natural vaginal lubrication now.”

Capri laughed. “I don’t have time to lubricate my vagina. I’m going to be a professional therapist, not a prostitute.”

“Honey, we’re all prostitutes. Don’t kid yourself. The better your vagina is, the better your clientele. And by better, I mean wetter.”

Capri laughed as Sasha got on her usual soapbox about the birds and the bees and the flower and the trees, and all of her twisted ideals about gender roles and feminism, sexual liberation, and pussy empowerment. Capri had heard Life According to Sasha before. To be honest, she found it all contradictory. With a wet cooter, she could get a wealthy man…and be more independent? What the hell?

Sasha realized her monologue was going nowhere fast. “Okay. How ’bout for an hour? You haven’t gone out with me since our second day of orientation.”

Oh, there was a reason for that. Capri couldn’t hang with the elite party girl. Not when they had different aspirations.

Nevertheless, Capri cocked her head. Maybe Sasha had a point somewhere in there about only living once. Going out for an hour wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? She really could stand to break the monotony of her schedule. Just this once.

“Okay,” Capri said, thinking of how literal she would be. She would even set her watch to notify her when the hour was up. “I can go for an hour.”

Sasha froze with her mouth gaped. “Really? You’re giving in that easily? And here I was all prepared to bribe you with chocolate.” Sasha pulled out her cell and started punching the pad. “I’ll RSVP us. Frat party starts at eight. We can get there at nine-thirty.” She tucked her phone back in her jeans pocket and nudged Capri’s side with an elbow. “Getting laid tonight isn’t a bad idea either.” Sasha laughed as Capri pulled away. Sasha had to jog a little to catch up with her. “You’re going to have to give it up to somebody sometime. Best to go ahead and get the bad lay out of the way now so you’ll be ready for—”

“Don’t push it. We’re just going out to do some underage drinking, stand around so all the upper class girls can point fingers at us and call us whores, dance once or twice with some guys who probably don’t even go to school here but front like they do so they can get some college pussy,” Capri took a deep breath and continued. “And then I’m going back to the dorm to sleep while you actually fuck one or two said guys and later stumble in our room and pass out on your bed.”

Sasha’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Thank you very much for showing me my shortcomings.” They walked inside their dorm building and started up the first flight of stairs to their tiny room. “I’ll go for a record of three guys tonight to shake it up a bit. Can’t be all predictable and shit.”

They laughed.

“You’re laughing now,” Sasha flipped her hair, “but it’s true. You need to get laid, and this frat party we’re going to tonight—plenty of hotties. You’re hot. You’re eighteen. A freshman. It’s time to give it up.”

Capri shook her head. “You sound like a guy. Should I be worried? You trying to fuck me?”

“Only thing you need to be worried about is me pushing you down the stairs to your death so I can get an automatic four point oh for the semester.”

“That’s just a myth, you know. And why do you care about a four point oh anyway?” Capri faced their room door and started digging around in her backpack for her keys.

“It’ll make the parents happy. They may even let me trade in my car.”

“Right. Because last year’s model is so outdated.”

“Exactly.” Sarcasm was lost on her. Sasha’s attention had already drifted elsewhere. “Helloooo, stranger.”

“Hello, yourself. Do you ladies have a moment?”

“Damn straight.” Sasha’s voice had dropped an octave in an attempt to sound seductive.

Capri, too busy trying to figure out which of her keys matched their door, didn’t bother turning around to see who Sasha was hitting on now. It wouldn’t surprise her if Sasha brought the guy inside and did him on their puppy paw welcome mat as soon as Capri unlocked it. That kind of easy access to fucking was the reason Sasha had wanted a coed dorm. Capri had wanted the dorm because it was the only one with a laundry room on the same floor and no curfew. They were both practical girls, though one of them was more of a free spirit than the other.

Capri continued trying keys in the door while trying not to listen to Sasha get her mack on.

“See, my band’s playing tonight, if you two can make it. Here.” Papers rustled as it sounded like he was handing a sheet to Sasha. “We need all the support—oh, hell—who am I kidding? We need all the beautiful girls in the audience we can get to cheer us on and stroke our egos while we perform. I’ve been passing these flyers out all day, and I have yet to invite one lad.” Then he laughed. Sort of. It was a breathless, light sound that gave out as if he didn’t have the energy to put into it fully. He sounded genuinely happy, and his foreign accent came through thick with a strong lilt. Irish, maybe? “So what do you say, ladies?”

“What kind of music is it?” Sasha asked.

“Doesn’t matter. Do it for a good cause. That way, even if our music is shite, you would have done your civic duty of helping to build self-esteem in today’s youth.”

“I can see you’ve worked on your pitch.”

Capri could hear the excitement in his voice and the interest in Sasha’s, so she hated to be the one to burst their bubbles. She didn’t want Sasha to unilaterally change their plans for the evening and answer affirmatively for them just because Sasha wanted to fuck the guy. “Actually, I have to work in the morning. We’re going out for a hot minute then I’m—” Capri inserted the correct key then turned around expecting to gently let down a chubby redhead with itty bitty green eyes, a full body of freckles, the palest of skin, and thin lips…maybe one that was four feet tall, dressed in all green, and carrying a pot of gold and a four-leaf clover.

She was not prepared.

And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d stared…at anybody.

“Then you’re…?” He waved his hand exuberantly, letting Capri know to get on with it. She didn’t speak, so he finished for her. “Then you’re going to bed like a seventy-five-year-old woman in a nursing home?” He smiled, and it was brilliant, bright as the sun. Nothing else mattered but his ethereal joy. “Wait.” He put long fingers up to his lips, which drew her eyes there. “My mamó’s eighty, and I do believe she’s Skyping in to support my band tonight. You know what that means? That means you’re lamer,” he put his fingers in the shape of an L in front of her face, “than an old lady in a nursing home. Is that really how you want to be known around here? Is that really the legacy you want to leave?” He put his hands on his hips and waited. His eyes twinkled with amusement as his perfect pink lips widened into a smile.

Jesus. That smile.

Those eyes.

That hair. The mass of unruly dark curls on top of his head…and the thick eyebrows he used expertly to make countless facial expressions. Even his skin, the same natural tan as hers…and those delicate cheekbones that cradled his straight nose were awe-inspiring. Capri stared up his tall, thin frame to his androgynous features because there was so much unexpected beauty to take in.

“Uh…” Capri couldn’t utter a coherent word if she tried. She tried again anyway. “Um…” Oh, he had green eyes, all right—olive green—but that’s where her preconceived image of him, based on a handful of foreign films, ended. A couture high fashion show in London was missing a model.

Maybe it was time to give up her virginity.

Where the hell did that come from?

“You’re staring,” Sasha whispered to Capri.

“My photograph’s on the flyer, love,” he taunted as he extended a sheet to Capri. “So you don’t have to memorize my face.”

Capri swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth and took it from him. Was she really salivating? Her face heated with embarrassment.

To get his attention, Sasha shook the flyer she’d gotten from him in front of his face. “Eh, what’s your name, pretty boy?”

He didn’t take his eyes from Capri. Mirth was written all over his face as he studied hers. He even popped the collar of his gaudy orange leather jacket before answering. “Thomas. My friends call me Tommy. Seventy-five-year-old women call me Tom because they forget the other half. ”

That accent. Capri shivered.

Sasha laughed. “We just love supporting youth in the community, Tommy.” Sasha grabbed Capri’s arm, turned the key dangling from the door and opened it. After Sasha shoved Capri inside their room, Sasha turned to him, leaned against the open door and grinned. “I’m Sashana, by the way. That’s Capri. And we’ll both be there.”

“Good,” he smirked. “Then you’ll find out what groupies get to call me when they’re screaming my name.”


Chapter 1

Punch looked down at his attire and shook his head solemnly. I can’t believe this shit.

He was in utter turmoil, ready to bang some skulls. Angry with himself for letting her talk him into this. On his one night off. Pffff. He should have just stayed at home, but no. He couldn’t refuse her. She was his weakness. After overcoming so many adversities in life, he’d allowed her to become his Achilles heel. He’d allowed it. Somewhere underneath all his machismo, his lust for this woman had made him sink this low.

Not only was he promised to another, which made his lustful desires all the more illicit, but there was no way a self-respecting man would ever step out of the house like this. Not a real one. Not under normal circumstances without a gun to his head. Had he really agreed to this because she’d convinced him his bodyguard skills were necessary when she scoped out the human Halloween party off Westheimer? Or did he get dolled up like a dick so he could spend time with her outside the ever-watchful eyes at Hades? He’d wager the latter and that bothered him.

Sure, she’d played up his altruistic side, even used the label “team player”, like he’d ever displayed a selfish bone in his body. Fact was she knew how to get to him. She’d played him like a fiddle, stirring up his protective syndrome, and he fell for it every time.

Right about now, Punch decided being a team-player was overrated. So was lust.

He changed his mind as she parted the crowd and walked towards him, her crimson gown swaying at her ankles, her pearl earrings and bracelet sparkling under the disco light. He could smell her divineness from across the room. There was no one else like her. No other scent like that. His heart started to race, and he cursed under his breath. She’d know the effect she had on him if she tuned in to the way his chest boomed with excitement like a teenaged groupie around his favorite rock star. Then again, she was no idiot. A bit sassy and eccentric maybe, but not dumb. She wouldn’t and couldn’t be surprised by his reaction to her. She knew. Had to. It had been like this since he’d first met her. He would have cursed the day if he hadn’t believed all the prophecies that foreshadowed their intertwined fates.

“Ahoy there, matey. Arrrrrrr,” Willow snickered as she curtsied in front of him.

That did it. He refused to take the ridiculous yellow parrot perched on his shoulder, or the ridiculous black leather eye patch strangling his head, or the ridiculous plastic sword swinging on his hip any longer. He started ripping those pieces of his costume off until they landed on the floor one by one. He felt some satisfaction in watching other ridiculously clad, non-self-esteem-having folks trample all over what he’d formally worn as part of his costume.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” his voice rumbled partly because it was always a deep baritone, and partly because he was growling from anger at himself for letting Willow get to him. He couldn’t even blame her for this like any other warm-bloodied male worth his salt would. He was in a roomful of people wearing masks and elegant costumes, and though he should feel humiliated that his costume was out of place, he was more upset over his lack of will power where she was concerned. He had let Willow entice him into coming to this shindig to begin with, and that was unacceptable, if not gay. He hadn’t even fucked her and he already acted whipped and ball-less.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She tried for concern and fell short, unable to hide her amusement.

“Getting out of this mess and going to find my dignity and testosterone.” He pulled the string of colorful beads looped around one of his long dreadlocks and tossed them to the floor, watching them scatter around like fruit loops. Men didn’t wear barrettes. Men of his stature and position didn’t go against their better judgments over women just because they got boners either. Well, maybe some men did. Not Punch. He preferred to stay on the sidelines and make sure everyone else had a safe environment to play in rather than dressing up and actually participating. Role playing was not his thing. Cosplay was definitely not his thing.

All that time he’d been working at Pit of Hades Fetish Club, he’d never once gotten involved in the kinks. He’d observed. He’d kicked some ass. He’d delegated security tasks to others. He’d done whatever he had to do to keep the place safe for those who had their minds in the gutter. That was his role, his calling. He sacrificed to make sure others could enjoy themselves. He was a straight-laced, all-American, wholesome good ol’ boy who did not dress in costumes and attend parties on his nights off of security duty.

This IS all Willow’s fault. Thankfully, he’d finally found half a nutsack before he did something really stupid like curtsy back.

She threw her head back, exposing more of her ample brown cleavage in the low cut gown, and laughed. “It’s a masquerade ball, silly, not a pirate convention.”

“Well, you just told me I needed a costume. I’ve never been to anything like this…” he looked down at his ruffled sleeves and growled, “and I shouldn’t have come tonight.” With one palm, he grabbed the Jack Sparrow hat from his head, tossed it on the floor, and kicked it across the room. While en route, it was kicked again twenty times by masked people waltzing around the nightclub. He smiled at the ruined hat getting just what it deserved. “I’m outta here. Call me if you need backup.”

From what he could tell, it was a party with several bars for humans who liked to get drunk and pretend to be someone they weren’t. As long as she didn’t start biting them while she searched the crowd for supernaturals, Willow would be fine.

“Party pooper,” she pouted.

“I came. I saw. I left.” Fuck this.

“Please don’t go.” Willow removed her mask and gave him the full weight of her hazel eyes.

Damn. Why she have to go and do that? Whether she was intentionally trying to spell him with her magic or not, didn’t matter. The chemistry between them was undeniable, irresistible, and fully charged when they made eye contact for more than a few seconds. He sighed, intending to look away but was unable to do so. As long as she asked him to stay, it would be hell to refuse her.

He had to appeal to her sensibility. “Your clan and my pack are spread throughout both floors. If there are any supernaturals here, they will be found and urged to come with us. You don’t need me here for that.” He spread his arms, looking downward to indicate his emasculating brown knit pants and striped sash. “We all have our roles to play, and this isn’t mine. I’ve humiliated myself enough for one evening.” His eyes formed a question, begging her to release him from her non-magical hypnotism. Feeling like he was letting her down was even worse than parading around in his clown suit. Thank Baal she couldn’t actually captivate him. Their particular blood bond bound him more than he could stand already.

She reached behind her head, smoothing hair from her nape to the top of her head where it was piled neatly in some kind of bun. “But we hardly have a chance to spend time together anymore. I want you here.” She looked at the dance floor and swayed left and right. “I want to dance with you. You’re always so serious all the time. So intense. You never have fun.”

“Oh, I have fun. Plenty of it. With my wife.” It was a cheap blow, its childish bite magnified by the look on Willow’s face. She looked offended that he would bring Fire up at a time like this, but it was more for his benefit than hers. He had to be reminded that he belonged to someone else, a dragon that would eat them whole and spit out their eyeballs. Knowing their destinies did not include death in the near future, did nothing to make the image in his head of Fire eating them seem any less likely.

“I don’t want to fuck you. I just want to dance. I thought it would be nice to, you know…hang out as friends, instead of us just working together all the time.”

His heart thumped harder as he caught the motion of her tongue licking her bottom lip. But I don’t trust myself around you. Her eyes narrowed so subtly, no one else would probably have noticed. It had happened, letting him know she’d caught her effect on him. She clamped her mouth shut and looked away.

Good thing she never did anything intentionally. If she ever tried to seduce him, he’d be weak. Working with her and being bonded to her was already too much. She was forbidden fruit, ripened to his liking with a big stamp on her forehead that said DO NOT TOUCH. She’d done her best to make sure nothing sexual transpired between them. At least in that regard, she had shown herself to be someone who respected him. Even inviting him to a public place under the disguise of recruitment showed she wanted to keep things platonic. At least it hadn’t been to a hotel room. She genuinely did consider him to be her friend. Somewhere underneath the overwhelming animalistic need to drive his dick in her deep, he felt the same way about her.

If only Fire had been off tonight too. He could have given the excuse that he wanted to spend the evening with her. Willow would have accepted that.

Enough of the wussies. He hadn’t been scared of a woman since he was a boy. He was a grown-ass man. He could do this. He was already here. The music was nice. No harm in dancing with her.

Punch offered one hand out to hold one of hers. She smiled triumphantly and took it. They both winced as the low electric current pulsed where their palms met. That had started happening ever since she’d become a maistress and he a pack leader. The power between them was literally electric. They had been practicing how to harness that power so it would reach its full potential by the time it was necessary. During the times they weren’t practicing, they did their best to pretend it was nothing more than static electricity produced by shoe soles on carpet. Even when there was no carpet.

He placed his other hand flat and chaste against her side, high enough that he didn’t feel her hour-glass waist curve into her luscious hip. He found a strobe light in the ceiling to stare at to avoid concentrating on how good she felt in his arms, and the irony of them slow dragging as Alicia Keys and Maxwell sang “Fire We Make” through the speakers.

Though the hand holding her mask gripped his back intimately, there was still space between them. He was grateful for that. Grateful and comfortable. He let his guard down and tucked his chin on the top of her head. Sway to the left. Now to the right. Repeat. She leaned further into him, resting her head on his chest. He got a good whiff of her scent. It was still all Willow, but it had changed somewhat. He closed his eyes to savor it. Sniiiiiiff. She was aroused. Being this close to him, touching him had started it. Her arousal aroused him.

No. On second thought, he couldn’t do this. If that made him a pussy, so be it. He stepped back suddenly, letting her go before she called the wild beast in him to the surface. “Thanks for the dance. I’m going to go now.”

The loss of his body had caused her to stumble forward, but she regained her footing quickly. “Why? We just got started.”

“You lied.” He adjusted himself through a pants pocket with more conspicuousness than he had intended.

She looked puzzled. “I really do believe there will be supernaturals here to recruit for our team and to take back to the safety of—”

“You lied about not wanting to fuck me.” He tapped his flared nose. “This doesn’t lie, and neither does your scent.”

She stared at him for a moment as if contemplating whether what he’d said was true. After getting bumped a few times by other dancers, she finally nodded a confirmation of sorts and returned her mask to her face. Arguing against Punch’s nose and her desire for him was futile. “Well, shiver me timbers. No matter how hard I try, there’s no escaping my nature, is there, bucko?” She smiled real sweet, the kind of smile that made his dick twitch. “I swear I had the purest of intentions, but—”

It happened so fast, there was no time to react. One second, his and Willow’s eyes were locked on each other again, fighting the temptation to indulge. The next, they were surrounded by people dressed in black uniforms with guns drawn. The floor was covered with fabrics from costumes that had been ripped in half and slipped to the floor. A quick glance around, and he noticed different members of their entourage had several black-uniformed humans with guns trained on them as well. The sudden silence was more deafening than the music that had been setting the festive scene.

Guess the party was over.

With Punch’s instincts on high alert now, he had a really bad feeling it had been a trap all along. The whole ball was a sham. He’d walked right into a setup on his night off. He looked down into Willow’s startled eyes and snarled. This was all her fault. Arrrrrrrr!


#SampleSaturday ADULT Excerpt from Sleepy Willow’s Loosed Soul (The Narcoleptic Vampire Series).

[Sample Saturday] Sleepy Willow’s Loosed Soul (The Narcoleptic Vampire Series Vol. 3) by Dicey Grenor. **ADULT EXCERPT**


From this angle, his thighs were huge. Hell, everything on him was ginormous. His feet, his calves, his balls. Rippling chocolate muscles covered every inch of his body, and my reverse cowgirl position made his thick dick stroke my guts in a nearly uncomfortable way…that got progressively worse. Screaming Ouch! right now would not be sexy, but it was forming in the back of my throat, no matter how superhuman I was supposed to be.
Since my first time with Ivan, I hadn’t experienced pain from merely intercourse and didn’t understand why I felt it now. I was a G, dammit. I could ride a mean dick, but boy was he hitting it hard. And the line between pleasure and pain was distinct for me. One that couldn’t be ignored. An adjustment needed to be made to accommodate Punch’s length and strength. Sure, I could take the pain, but I preferred unadulterated pleasure. The kind that had me screaming in ecstasy, not agony. With that in mind, I let go of my tight grip on his legs where I’d been digging my nails in, drawing blood, and leaned back towards his massive chest and washboard abs.

Ahhh. Much better.

More than one way to fuck a giant.

My long, coarse black hair cushioned my head while the mega heat from his body immediately engulfed my limbs. Warming me inside and out, like I’d been thrown into a volcano. I became lost to that heat, especially the molten one spreading from the vise grip I still held around the endowment that made him all male.
“Mmmm. Damn, that’s good.” Punch’s deep, rattling moan vibrated throughout my entire body as he massaged my breasts with both hands, kneading them like a chef preparing steaks for grilling. He continued pumping his hips upwards, burying himself in me. Deeply. Rhythmically. Nibbling my earlobe. Growling with each stroke. Lightly flickering his thumbs over my nipples to make sure I remained tender and juicy.

My back arched as I reached above my head to grasp handfuls of his long dreadlocks and pulled roughly, urging him on. Begging him, without words, to give me all the power in his strong, muscular body. To hold nothing back. Surprisingly, I could take it from this angle and wanted more. Needed more. He took the hint and ran with it. Or at least his hands did, sliding leisurely from my breasts to my stomach to my thighs. His knees raised, spreading mine wide to give his big hands access. To probe me on the outside while he prodded my insides.

Ow! What was that?

All this probing and prodding almost reminded me of something horrific, something jarring. Frightening knowledge danced just outside my mental grasp. If I reached for it, I’d capture its essence and know the truth. But no. I wouldn’t let my brain focus on anything other than this moment with him. When one of his thick fingers found my pulsating clit and rubbed tentatively at first, then more firmly, I couldn’t think about anything else if I tried.

Oh, yeeesss. Just like that. I was speechless again, as I’d been known to get sometimes when I was close to climaxing. Our supernatural bond gave me a telepathic means to praise him anyway. To let him know how badly I wanted it, and that he was giving it to me right—in case my moans and groans and panting and writhing didn’t clue him in well enough.

The same finger went to his lips for a wet, noisy suck, before resuming its delicious assault on the part of me that craved his attention most.

“Damn, that’s good,” I whispered. For shooting my pleasure level up ten notches, he more than deserved to hear that one aloud.
Oh, yeah. He liked auditory encouragement. The pace and depth of his thrusts increased. The volume of his baritone moans rose too, until he no longer sounded human but feral like his inner wolf. The sensation, the intensity, our combined energies…all of it made us urgent to reach the end together. Desperate to reach the ultimate sexual fulfillment.

Oh, yes. Faster. Harder. More. Please.

Amazing that he could still be inside me so deeply from this angle, but boy could he ever. Filling me up again and again.
No one could tell me size didn’t matter.

My eyes rolled and closed, but not before I saw Remi enter my bedroom and shut the door. He didn’t bother talking or waiting for an invitation. No lollygagging whatsoever. He began stripping, exposing lean muscles and hairy, olive skin. Skin that appeared close to my caramel complexion but a stark contrast to Punch. The contrast of Remi’s features was beyond complementary, forming the perfect blend like peanut butter and jelly or vanilla ice-cream and apple pie. Double yum. Food analogies worked well since I was spread before him like an all-you-can-eat buffet with Punch working me like a famished construction worker using a jackhammer to devour his meal. A big, hot jackhammer, that is.

Remi didn’t say anything because words weren’t necessary. He would only benefit from action. Swift action. He was all about removing the garments that prevented him from being as naked as we were. And he was in a hurry to do it. In a hurry to find pleasure and release inside me. Being familiar with my body, he recognized the signs of an impending orgasm and didn’t want to miss my walls clenching around him, extracting every drop of his semen.

I picked all that up from his mental trajectories…because we were bonded like that. Permanently. The bond I’d once dreaded had become an instrument of foreplay.

Stealing a peek through squinty eyes, I moaned at the sight of Remi disrobing. His physical aura manifested the same vibes as his thoughts. He was erect, his body straining to get at me in the same manner a paperclip would be drawn to a magnet, only hornier. Hotter.

I licked my lips through a haze of lust, struck immediately by how beautiful and delicious he looked. Statuesque and edible…which made perfect sense to me since I was a vampire. My hungry, sexual nature justified why I couldn’t wait for him to lay the full weight of his sinuous body on me while I sunk throbbing fangs into his neck and rocked my hips on Punch. Multitasking at its finest. Being able to have them simultaneously would be worth prolonging the finale. I had two orifices that could be filled, after all, especially now that neither served to excrete waste from my animated body.

I’d seen enough of Conda’s pornos to know the anus could be a delightful erogenous zone. What better time than the present to give it a try? Neither my inexperience with anal sex nor Punch’s daunting size would preclude me from shifting him to the rear and leaving my cookie wide open for Remi to plunge in. Trying new things came with being a G.

That’s right, sexy. Come to me. Come in me—


That gnawing pain still lingered in my subconscious. I didn’t understand how or why or when it had come back. But whatever. Double penetration with Punch and Remi would be worth some pain. Or maybe I should turn over, switch Remi to the rear. Yeah…

Ignoring the nagging feeling that something was askew, I writhed wantonly at the sight of Remi approaching. Seeing him, clothed or nude, always had that effect on me. He. Was. Gorgeous. From the crown of his long black, wavy hair to the mesmerizing metallic blue of his eyes, he belonged to me, and I couldn’t wait to claim him again.

But the nag wouldn’t recede. In fact, it worsened. The wonderful penetration of Punch’s dick now felt like he’d stabbed me with a sharp knife and pulled my cookie out. Conscious thought slowly pulled out towards the surface as well.

Thinking of Remi’s hair had triggered an alarm in the back of my mind, because his hair was oddly slicked back from his forehead with holding gel. And he hadn’t removed a t-shirt with leather wristbands and jeans. He’d been wearing a button-down, long-sleeved dress shirt and slacks instead. Matter of fact, his eyes were downcast with the guardedness of a shy man. Definitely odd for him. Remi usually stared like a shocked corpse, which was fitting really, since he loved corpses so much.

But that was the point, wasn’t it? This wasn’t Remi at all. I’d been mistaken. Only Aaron behaved in that manner, and dressed like that, and wore his hair that way, and… No. Wait. There was no way Aaron would have an erection already. His erectile dysfunction, brought on by the same traumatic childhood event that gave him a personality disorder, didn’t allow it. Honestly, it was difficult to discern which personality occupied that glorious body sometimes, but there were usually telltale signs…that were blown to hell at the moment.

Come to think of it, Punch wasn’t my lover. That should have been the first sign that something was off here; that I was either in an alternate universe, having another crazy dream, or hallucinating. There was no way I’d be riding Punch without his fire-breathing redheaded bitch having something to say about it. And neither Remi nor Aaron would be cool about approaching the bed with that hungry look on their face, that said they loved watching me ride Punch and couldn’t wait to join us. Remi would be too jealous, Aaron too self-conscious.

Apparently, my body had been overwhelmed, stressed to the max, and my mind had escaped to a safe dream in order to cope. My built-in, automatic coping mechanism. At least it had been a good dream. Arguably. With my sleep disorder, I never knew when sleep was on the horizon, or when my own troubled past would manifest itself in a nightmare. Narcolepsy notwithstanding, somehow I knew this nap had been induced by something other than my body’s inability to regulate its sleep cycle. Something more frightening, more painful, more mercilessly malicious was going on.

Fearful of what I’d find upon returning to reality, my eyes flew open. I tried to sit upright and couldn’t. Something had me bound tightly, and there was only one thing that could be—silver.

What a buzz kill.

Sleepy Willow’s Loosed Soul (The Narcoleptic Vampire Series Vol. 3)

Zeek’s Loving Thorn (A Novella of The Narcoleptic Vampire Series)…

…is available now on Amazon Kindle.

Cover - ZEEKShe’s an intersexed, newly turned vampire.
He’s a human, who was left behind.
Together, they learn how to love each other…
and survive in the final days.

RATED HARDCORE for violence, sex, and profanity.<–If you’re a fan of Dicey’s work, you already know that.

Here’s a teaser:

“So, what’s your name?”

His dick jumped at the sound of her voice. Zeeeeek. He was definitely in Hell. Of course, the beautiful vampire was here to torture him with unsatisfied lust throughout eternity. How appropriate. He had been a womanizer before the Rapture, now he’d beg for release between her long legs and never get it. Then he remembered their epic exodus from the storage window. Zeek had run with him on her back, even though they had been surrounded and outnumbered, with the sun rising. He was still alive because of her. She had risked herself for him. He didn’t know what to say. So he asked a dumb question. “How did you know I was awake?”

Available HERE.


Sexy Excerpt~Sleepy Willow’s Loosed Soul (The Narcoleptic Vampire Series Vol. 3)

I’m going to do something I RARELY do: post an excerpt from Sleepy Willow’s Loosed Soul (The Narcoleptic Vampire Series Vol. 3). For those of you who read this series, you know things are revealed as you read, so I’m always scared to spoil my own damn story. The other reason I don’t give away what’s within the pages, and probably the most important for this blog, is that I write stuff that’s potentially offensive.

I’m too desensitized to be offended by much, but that doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about what may be too much for more sensitive readers. Soooo, STOP READING NOW IF SEXUAL CONTENT AND PROFANITY OFFENDS YOU. The excerpt I selected involves both…because…well, because I like it.

You’ve been warned.

He put his hand on my cheek and turned my face toward him. “Look at me.” I did. He waited. “No, really. Look at me.” I did. I saw a white man with light stubble where a mustache and beard would be, as if the end to his porn career also meant the end to being clean shaven. Deep brown eyes. Brown hair hanging long enough to start curling at the ends and thick enough to cover his receding hair line. What a difference a few months made. A strong, manly jaw. Nice cheekbones. Nice, really nice lips. I licked mine. “That’s it. Take a real look at me.” He rubbed his thumb across my cheek slowly and studied my face the way I studied his.

Oh, fuck. I saw him. His sex appeal. The thing that had made him such an excellent lover on camera. It hadn’t had anything to do with his curse. The witch’s scribble had made him irresistible, but he would have been hot without it.

I wanted him right now, precisely what was not supposed to happen. I made a move to get up. “I gotta go.”

He held my jaw. “Un un. This is what you need.”

What, sexual healing? Intimacy? What exactly did I need?

I don’t know what he saw on my face, but he knew he’d spooked me to run. He rolled over until I was pinned underneath him. “Shhh. Shh. Shhh. Don’t be afraid.”

The beat for “Sex Therapy” by Robin Thicke kicked in on his stereo, and I thought I was going to scream. The only thing I could think of was getting out. Running. Getting away from him and his eyes and body and hands. Oh, God. He had lifted my hair from underneath my head and neck and piled it all at the top of my head. He’d wrapped it tightly in one hand and let his other one land in between my legs. I still had on the miniskirt I’d worn to Franco’s room months ago, and Conda had taken full advantage of the opening. It had easily ridden up my legs, and once he touched me, my legs had easily fallen open.

All rational thought left my mind. I couldn’t think of leaving or running or fighting or screaming. Unless he was going to make me come, then I was ready to scream. God, I wanted to scream. I wanted to cream right on his hand, then scream until I woke up everyone in the basement.

“Let it go. I want to see you come.”

I had to go. I am not a whore.

His eyes never left mine. I didn’t know what he was looking for in them, but it was the intimacy behind his gaze that had freaked me out to begin with. I hadn’t come in here for this. My brain was disconnecting from the pressure building where he rubbed. I could see myself writhing like a bitch in heat, and I didn’t like the look. I was thinking about running again and he knew it.

“Come for me.” His lips crushed mine. His tongue swept mine. His palm stopped rubbing the outside of my panties and one finger slid in. Then another. And another, until I wasn’t sure how many were stroking me on the inside. I rocked my hips with each stroke and dug my nails in his back. I couldn’t get enough of him. I was getting too much of him. Not enough. Too much. Definitely too much. “That’s it. Ride it.”

His eyes were still on mine like he wanted to experience my pleasure through me. His tongue was back in my mouth like he wanted to crawl in there and take back every drop of blood he’d given me. We were too close to each other’s face. His hand still held my hair tight, the other bringing me close to orgasm. He seemed everywhere. All over and in me at the same time…

Ladies and gentlemen, that’s THE END of the excerpt. I hope you enjoyed. If you want to know what Conda, short for Anaconda (hint hint), does to Willow after that, you’ll need to get the book. 😀

To get familiar with the characters and their “quirks”, you’ll really need to start with Sleepy Willow’s Bonded Soul (Vol. 1):

Then you’ll need to read Sleepy Willow’s Heartless Soul (Vol. 2):

THEN you’ll be ready for the insanity in Vol. 3.