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The Dark Side Blitz

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LGBTQ+, BDSM, Paranormal Romance

Date Published: May 16, 2025

 

 

Welcome to The Dark Side, where the line between love and lust blurs with
dangerous passions.

The Dark One by Angela Knight

Matia of Ruza is one of the legendary Battlemaids — a woman warrior who
has taken an oath of celibacy in service of the Maid of Light. Kaska intends
to make Matia the centerpiece in a sizzling erotic ritual in honor of his
god.

Chain of Thorns by Will Okati

Riven finds himself trapped and enslaved by a powerfully seductive alien.
Where is the line between fantasy and reality — slavery and love?

BloodWolf by Sierra Dafoe

Centuries ago an ancient evil turned Baudouin Delacor into a beast for
which there had never before been a name — the BloodWolf. Delacor has only
one hope left: that by destroying the succubus, he can free himself of its
curse.

 

The Dark Side paperback

 

EXCERPT

Excerpt from The Dark One (Angela Knight)

 

Kaska of Artane slowed his stallion to an easy amble. Prince Britar’s
fortress lay a full day away, and he’d ridden poor Warbringer hard this past
month. He knew the Prince awaited the intelligence he’d gathered as a spy in
neighboring Trovan but laming his horse would serve no purpose.

Particularly with war on the horizon.

Besides, the last time Kaska had come this way, he’d had to battle the
local brigands. Two fell to his blade before the rest fled, but that left
five. And they might be in the mood for revenge. I don’t care to ride
headlong into an ambush.

“Whoreson bastards!” A woman’s roar of fury brought Kaska’s head
up. He drew Warbringer to a prancing halt.

Swords clashed, interspaced with male taunts and laughter. The laughter had
a distinctly ugly note. The woman swore again, an edge of grim desperation
in her voice.

The thieves had found a new victim.

Kaska set his heels to Warbringer’s flanks and thundered up the road toward
the sound. Rounding the bend, he saw five men fighting a lone female
traveler they’d managed to unhorse. He recognized the dented, rusted armor
and unshaven faces; it was indeed the same band of thieves.

But their victim was no common woman. Her armor and sword marked her as a
follower of the Maid of Light — a female warrior. She was tall for a woman,
with a lithe, muscular build and pretty breasts barely contained by her
intricately embossed breastplate. Long black hair swirled around her face as
she spun and hacked at her tormentors with a slim sword designed for a
woman’s hand.

One of the brigands already lay dead at her feet, but four others remained,
odds too great even for one of the legendary Battlemaids.

A grin of sheer, savage joy spread across Kaska’s face. With a howl, he
drew the blade sheathed across his back and kicked Warbringer into a
thundering charge.

The nearest of the brigands whirled too late. Kaska took his head with a
single stroke.

Another of the men jumped at him, hacking for his thigh with an axe, but
Kaska spun Warbringer aside and thrust his blade into the thief’s chest. The
man tumbled off the lethal point, gurgling out his life.

Meanwhile, the third brigand fell to the Battlemaid’s sword. His head
tumbled from his shoulders.

The fourth man looked from Kaska to the thieves’ would-be victim,
calculated the odds, and took to his heels.

Kaska snatched a dagger from his thigh sheath and hurled it at the coward
with an expert flip of his wrist. The man went down, the blade buried to the
hilt between his shoulder blades.

Scarcely breathing hard, Kaska turned to the maid. “Are you
well?”

“Well enough.” She studied him, her dark eyes level. There was a
sharp and elegant beauty to her face, with its broad, high cheekbones and
square little chin. Her lush mouth could inspire a monk to carnal
fantasies.

“My thanks, warrior,” she said at last in a low, husky voice,
pushing the long black hair out of her face. “There were too many of
them for me to best alone.” She considered him, appraising the width of
his chest and the strength of his sword arm. Female appreciation lit her
gaze, mixed with a warrior’s caution.

She had reason for that caution, for he meant to challenge her himself. He
worshiped the Dark One, and his god relished nothing as much as the moans of
a defeated Battlemaid.

Imagining the tight grip of her virgin ass, Kaska felt his cock swell
behind his loincloth.

Give her time to rest, and then…

Of course, the maid might well kill him instead, but looking at her long
legs and full, sweet breasts, Kaska thought it a chance well worth
taking.

But as he opened his mouth to warn her of his intent, all color left the
Battlemaid’s face. Her eyes rolled up. Kaska threw himself from Warbringer’s
back as she collapsed in a heap.

Two long strides carried him to the maid’s side. Dropping to one knee on
the dusty road, Kaska began an anxious examination. He found no wounds on
the front of her body, so he rolled her onto her back.

The maid groaned and lifted her head. “Wha –?”

“Seems one of your cur attackers landed a blow after all,” he
told her grimly. “There’s a stab wound in your back just under your
backplate, over your left hip.”

“Aye,” she said, letting her head fall. “One of them had a
dagger.”

“‘Tis not deep, but it bleeds still,” Kaska said. “I can
treat it, if you permit.”

“Aye,” the maid said, breathing now in shallow pants. “My
thanks.”

Kaska nodded and rose to retrieve his pack of battlefield medicines from
Warbringer. Well, he thought as he walked to his horse, I won’t be
challenging her any time soon. Not with that wound.

Later, perhaps. When he’d examined her, he’d noticed she had a truly
delicious ass.

He wanted it.

 

About the Authors

 

Angela Knight:

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards
for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Sierra Dafoe:

An award-winning author who received three CAPA nominations in her first
year of publishing, Sierra Dafoe has gone on to receive numerous awards and
recommended reads for her work. Check her website for free stories, a link
to her readers’ group, sneak peeks, and all her latest news. Sign up for her
newsletter to be entered in her monthly contest, and reach out through the
“contact” page — she loves hearing from her readers!

Will Okati:

Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting
Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and
ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as
ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of
the quiet ones to watch out for, but life — like storytelling — is always
a work in progress.

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

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Sanguine Shadows Blitz

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Sanguine Shadows cover

LGBTQ+ Vampire Romance

Date Published: April 11, 2025

 

 

This is where everything changes.

Darce has done his best to live off the radar as one of the bloodkind,
keeping himself separate from the company of other vampires and the danger
they court. The cowboy might be lonely in his solitude, but he’s safe.

Raven’s come to change that. He’s come to change everything.

A newly made bloodkind, Raven’s out to shake up the old world order that
oppresses their kind. He carries Darce along in his wake like a leaf on the
tide, pushes and goads and tops from the bottom, inciting Darce to lust,
passion and action. He makes a centuries-old cowboy feel alive again,
something well worth taking risks for.

But when Raven challenges the Sanguine, the most dangerous of all vampires,
has he gone too far?

 

EXCERPT

All he’d wanted was a quiet drink.

Darce swirled the drop or three of tequila left in his shot glass and
raised it to the guy who tended bar in this backwoods dive. If he had a
name, or if the bar did, Darce didn’t know it and he liked it that way. Tall
and skinny as a pool cue, his head shaved just as bald, he didn’t talk much
and took Darce’s glass with a grunt. Didn’t ask what Darce wanted. You had
your choice here of PBR, Bud, Jose and JD. Like ’em or find somewhere else
to drink.

Tequila suited Darce fine. Didn’t do anything for him, no, his being a dead
man walking and all — vampire, as some might say — but he’d developed a
taste for agave over the years. He held up one finger. Already had two, and
three was one more than his usual.

The bartender shrugged, not giving too much of a damn. Maybe the folks
around here knew what he was. Maybe they didn’t. Knew enough to keep their
mouths shut, anyway.

One more drink in peace and it’d be time to walk. He had a peaceful stretch
of road home, nothing but the cicadas and bullfrogs and the yellow half-moon
to guide him on his way. Nothing to hinder him.

Until the stranger slid onto the bar stool next to Darce and jostled him
like they were old friends, bumping his shoulder. “I’ve got this
one,” he said. Sounded young. “One for me, too.”

The bartender eyed Darce’s new companion.

“I’ll pay my own way,” Darce said; that, and nothing more.

“Ouch. Not too friendly there, cowboy,” the new arrival said. He
swung around to give Darce a bold once-over.

Out of his peripheral vision, Darce got a good enough look at the new kid.
Pretty. Fresh-faced and young, his jaw cut firm and his grin made for
promising wicked deeds in the dark. He had a dusting of freckles on his nose
and cheeks that nearly tempted Darce into a snort of humor because he’d seen
a lot in his time but a vampire with a scattering of pale sepia freckles was
a new one on even him.

“I’m Raven,” the vamp said, offering his hand along with his
unlikely name. Darce snorted quietly. Raven, Silvershadow, Witchlight, Darce
had heard ’em all and believed none. This one would be newly made, then, not
knowing of the rules by which their kind lived. Which were no rules at all,
for the most part, except to watch your back in case someone was sneaking up
to shove a silver knife in it, and most of all to keep to yourself.

“That a fact,” Darce said, not asking it. He caught the shot
glass as the bartender slid it his way, amber drops spilling over the backs
of his fingers.

Raven waited, then laughed under his breath. “And you’re not going to
tell me your name. That’s okay. I already know who you are.”

Darce stilled. That was more than he cared to have bandied about.
“You’d be wise to keep that to yourself. That and your own name. Names
get you in trouble.”

“Do they really,” Raven murmured. He swallowed his drink like a
man with nary a grimace nor a cough. Not new to that game, at least.

Darce shot him a sideways glare. He shook his hair back and slammed the
tequila neat, no salt or lime around here. Damn hair; it’d been long, near
to chin length when he’d come across, and no matter how he cut it back it’d
grow out by the next new moon.

Freckles there had short hair, crisp-cut dark, some kind of gel keeping it
stuck up in spikes that looked sharp enough to prick a finger on. So young
he was damn near veal, and fresh meat for any who cared to take a bite. No
wonder he’d been turned. Someone had wanted to keep him that young and
pretty for good, was Darce’s bet.

And he’d gotten away. Darce wondered how, for a second, then discarded the
question. Not his business. He backslapped his empty shot glass across the
bar and licked his lips to get the last of the burning-hot taste off
them.

“Now there’s a pretty sight,” Raven said, his gaze hot where it
glanced over Darce’s face.

A vampire sometimes liked to pretend to breathe, to mix in all the better,
and for the most part Darce did it well. He drew air in through his nose and
let it out slow and smooth. “You want to watch that kind of talk around
here,” he said. “Matter of fact, you want to keep your mouth
tighter shut overall if you don’t want trouble.”

Raven laughed loud enough to draw a few wary looks. No one who drank in
that backwater Texas dive wanted to draw attention, except this young’un.
“You honestly think you’re fooling anyone?” He lazily drew his
finger around the rim of his shot glass. “Look around you, old man.
Pretty crowded in here tonight for a place like this. I count fifteen heads,
yours and mine and Baldy’s not included, and it’s not a big bar. Yet there’s
an empty space three men deep all around you. No one wants to get too close.
They all know, even if they don’t say. Maybe they don’t want to admit it’s
true, but somewhere inside them they all know what you are — what I am —
and that’s why they leave you be.”

Darce ground his back teeth together. His fangs, folded up against the top
of his mouth usually, rattlesnake-style, slid down and pricked his tongue as
he clamped his jaw shut.

“Must be lonely.” Raven pushed his luck, shifting closer.
“How long’s it been since you traded more than a handful of words with
anyone else? How long have you been around, old man?”

Something cool and firm brushed the top of Darce’s thigh, tantalizingly
close to his groin. He inhaled sharp and quick, and cursed it as a giveaway
that Raven pounced on as sly and quick as a fox.

“If you want,” Raven said, thumbing half an inch away from
Darce’s stiffening cock — it had been a long, long time, whether he’d admit
it out loud or not, “I’ll leave you be. All you have to do is say ‘go,’
and I’ll be out the door.”

“Like hell you would.”

“I think we’re gonna get along, you and me.” Raven stroked higher
up and closer. “You know me already.”

“I know you’re trouble walking on two legs,” Darce said. He
fought with the urge to rise into the teasing pressure. Damn, it’d been half
of forever since someone, anyone, laid a hand on him not in anger or with an
addict’s mindless craving. “I know I want you on your way as fast as
you think you can run.”

“No, you don’t.” Raven’s palm molded over Darce’s cock, his touch
firm and strong as any vampire’s, and for half a moment Darce burned with
curiosity over what this kid’s story was, anyway. What’d shaped him this
way? He forgot that in the next second when Raven moved fast in the way of
their kind, faster than most, his lips brushing Darce’s ear, and said,
“I could leave, or I could take you around back and suck your
dick.” He pierced Darce’s earlobe with one of his fangs, slim and
needle-sharp. “Your choice.”

About the Author

Will Okati (formerly known as Willa) has lived through a few Interesting
Times, but come out the other side a little grayer, a little wiser, and
ready to get writing. Still as passionate about coffee, cats, and crafts as
ever, but knowing that to your own self you must be true. Also still one of
the quiet ones to watch out for, but life — like storytelling — is always
a work in progress.

Will on Facebook

Will’s website

Will on Etsy

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

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