{"id":271,"date":"2014-12-30T20:54:44","date_gmt":"2014-12-31T01:54:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?page_id=271"},"modified":"2014-12-30T20:54:44","modified_gmt":"2014-12-31T01:54:44","slug":"masked-pleasures-edited-by-jennifer-levine","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/?page_id=271","title":{"rendered":"Masked Pleasures edited by Jennifer Levine"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>ebook $3.99
\nISBN 9781613900062
\n23,900 words<\/p>\n

[wp_eStore_add_to_cart id=57]<\/p>\n

The ebook edition is also available at: Amazon<\/a>, Barnes & Noble<\/a>, Smashwords, Kobo <\/a>& AllRomanceEbooks<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Everyone knows the phrase \u201ca picture is worth a thousand words.\u201d But what if the picture begs for more than a thousand words? This anthology features stories that were inspired by the cover photo. Writers were challenged to use the photo as their muse or inspiration and to let their imagination take over from there. The result is a collection of stories at once nostalgic and looking toward the future, finished off with a dash of hope and a sprinkle of romance.<\/p>\n

Michael M. Jones\u2019s \u201cDevil\u2019s Masquerade\u201d takes us through an erotic masquerade filled with disguised nobles, following the lovers Agents Starling and Grace as they search for a rogue sex demon; Brandi Guthrie\u2019s \u201cThe Seer\u2019s Mask\u201d lets us into the mind of Gadeah, a powerful seer tormented by the lack of meaningful love in her life; Victoria Pond\u2019s \u201cHeir Apparent\u201d tells of His Lady Highness, a princess forced into playing the role of a knight after both her brother and husband are killed, who discovers a long-lost loved one hidden in a tower far away; and Anya Levin\u2019s \u201cAn Unusual Legacy\u201d explores a futuristic world in which a group of rebels creates Freedom, an invitation-only chance to temporarily experience life without the constant informative babble of the identification interface.<\/p>\n

Through this compilation of stories, editor Jennifer Levine has once again given readers the chance to get to know an interesting variety of characters, desires, and circumstances, proving that a picture really can be worth much more than a thousand words.<\/p>\n

Contents:
\nDevil\u2019s Masquerade by Michael M. Jones
\nThe Seer\u2019s Mask by Brandi Guthrie
\nHeir Apparent by Victoria Pond
\nAn Unusual Legacy by Anya Levin<\/p>\n

Enjoy an enticing excerpt: <\/span>
\nExcerpt from The Seer\u2019s Mask
\nby Brandi Guthrie<\/p>\n

His mask told me things, things I knew he\u2019d want to keep hidden. But I was never one to be fooled by the cold glitter of surface thoughts. Not me. Not Gadeah the Seer.<\/p>\n

It was my power to see the core of all things, and it was my power to strip that essence away until all that remained was flesh and bone.<\/p>\n

But Aamir\u2026 he was so much more.<\/p>\n

On the other side of the ballroom, his molten eyes beckoned; the orbs were dark and hot, like chocolate or coffee\u2013things foreign to the City now since his kind, the Muhannad, came and fought and lost, but cost us so much.<\/p>\n

The slip of filigreed metal that covered his forehead and draped his cheeks was supposed to be a punishment, a chain to remind him of defeat. Through it, the Sisters of Sight tempered his thoughts and actions. For three months his mind had been bared to our gaze. A lesser man would have fractured, but his lips smirked, unrepentant as the cleft in his chin. I imagined my tongue in that dimple\u2013and other places\u2013and my insides tingled. His smirk widened. Heat unfurled in my cheeks, and I looked away.<\/p>\n

My consort\u2019s damp fingers curled around mine. Once, I\u2019d enjoyed his touch, but since the War, his caresses, like so many things, had turned cold. Unfeeling. Locked behind years of pain and sacrifice. His left hand\u2013the hand that should have borne my ring\u2013was twisted now, deformed in the enemy\u2019s devices. When he\u2019d returned to me from their prisons, I\u2019d known that it wasn\u2019t the only part of him that had been twisted.<\/p>\n

And I\u2019d made the enemy pay for that\u2013a thousand-fold. I\u2019d destroyed their armies, opening the Third Eye and gazing upon them until their souls withered and their hearts exploded. Only the strongest of their warriors had withstood my wrath\u2013Aamir and a few others\u2013and we had chained them with masks.<\/p>\n

My eyes slipped toward Aamir again. He lounged against the marble wall, a shadow absorbing the dancing light of one hundred candles. My Sisters fluttered around him, teasing him with their veils and twitching hips, but not drawing too close, sensing danger. Moths to his flame.<\/p>\n

He wasn\u2019t looking at them, however. This night, like every other night, his eyes were only for me. Our gazes brushed, the brief contact enough to make my pulse thunder and my breath catch.<\/p>\n

I could have called him to me. Bound by his mask, he would have to obey. But I\u2019d resisted, knowing that the fire banked in his molten eyes would fan to flaming hate the moment I took him to my bed. Yet we looked and stared, and I wished to speak to him, to say so many things. Perhaps, even, to say that I was sorry for him.<\/p>\n

But I said nothing, squeezing my consort\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

My consort did not join me that night. He had not joined me since his return. I had thought it was the shame of his deformity that had kept him from my side at first, but then I realized there was an emptiness to him, as if my power had carved through him as well as the violent Muhannad and left him a shell.<\/p>\n

The one time I had ordered him to my bed, he had touched and kissed and fondled as usual. But his phallus had remained soft, inattentive. I stroked it. Took it into my mouth. But to no avail. He would not attend me.<\/p>\n

When I Looked into him, I\u2019d Seen that he no longer loved me. No longer loved himself. And I Saw, not too far in the future, the dark glimmerings of a dishonorable death. I would have pleaded with him not to take his own life, but I knew my words would echo in that hollowness, ringing and ringing, to no effect. If anything, it might have driven him to do it sooner. So I sent him away. It was only after the door had shut behind him that I\u2019d allowed myself to cry, muffling my sobs in the velvet pillows.<\/p>\n

Sighing, I slipped now from my cold bed and draped a sheer robe over my shoulders. The moon was bright tonight, turning the sands silver. Under the orb\u2019s forgiving light, the signs of the battle were not so evident. No scars upon the earth. No blackened palms. The fountains sang a watery lullaby, dribbling over stone that had never been shattered by magic.<\/p>\n

Golden lights winked beyond the walls. My people could sleep easily tonight, knowing that the Muhannad people were defeated, knowing that I had saved them. Would that I could sleep so easily.<\/p>\n

The Seer was not meant to use her power to destroy; unleashing the Third Eye was always a last resort. But the Sisters had been fearful, our people desperate, and the Muhannad vengeful. They\u2019d shown us no mercy, and I had been given no choice.<\/p>\n

The dry, desert breeze lifted my hair from my shoulders, pulled my robe open. I closed my eyes and pretended it was a lover\u2019s caress. A true lover, one who would drown my sorrows in pleasure until I could no longer regret. My hand joined the breeze\u2019s path. Fingers slid a tickling path over my collarbone, between my breasts, down the curve of my belly, to the nest of dark red curls nestled between my legs.<\/p>\n

I hesitated, then opened myself to the kiss of the night air.<\/p>\n

My nails slid over the nubbin of flesh hidden within. With a purr of need, I massaged it, imagining it was a man\u2019s hand\u2026 Aamir\u2019s hand. I let my head fall back. My unbound hair skimmed my back and teased the sides of my breasts. Still massaging\u2013faster now\u2013I tweaked my nipples with my free hand. They pebbled. I groaned and sagged against the doorframe. My eyes drifted shut as my longest finger slipped inside, a tease, a torment, stoking my need for more. Something harder. Thicker. By the Sight, if only\u2013<\/p>\n

My eyes flew open and I tensed, suddenly sensing someone behind me.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t stop on my account, mistress,\u201d came the throaty growl. \u201cI was enjoying the vision.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aamir.<\/p>\n

Blood filled my cheeks and my hands fell away. I fumbled for the edges of my robe, but warm, big hands covered mine. Breath smelling of almonds and honey teased my neck. My head fell to the side of its own accord, inviting lips to sample my pulse. I waited. No kiss came.<\/p>\n

\u201cAamir\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, mistress?\u201d<\/p>\n

Shame filled me. I pulled away, clenching my robe closed, and faced him. The mask\u2019s edges shadowed his eyes, but his lips\u2013those beautiful, expressive lips\u2013were a slanted line of mockery.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d I demanded, brushing my hair away from my flushed cheeks and raising my chin.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe guards let me in. I am, after all, your personal pleasure slave.\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t have to remind me. I\u2019d spent long nights gazing up at my bed\u2019s gauze canopy, recalling the night I had pronounced him mine. Tortured by his people\u2019s ghosts, he\u2019d been unable to service the Sister who\u2019d chosen him for the night. He\u2019d been mad, his mind a splinter away from breaking, and no amount of whipping could overcome the pain roiling inside him. The Sister would have killed him if I hadn\u2019t intervened, but I didn\u2019t have to make him mine. I\u2019d done that for other reasons I refused to explore.<\/p>\n

Aamir\u2019s knuckles skimmed my cheek. I quivered, wanting, needing, as his voice rasped over me like the softest of silks. He stepped closer. \u201cI\u2019m yours, and yet\u2026 you haven\u2019t called me. You haven\u2019t called any of the slaves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a consort.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAn impotent consort.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is none of your business, slave.\u201d<\/p>\n

His lips quirked. \u201cSo, it\u2019s true. You\u2019ve been celibate since the War.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have been respectful of my consort.\u201d I slipped past him, but stopped when I realized I was heading for the bed. I veered toward the plate of fruit and decanter of chilled wine instead. My hand shook as I poured the amber liquid, splashing some on my sleeve. The fruity smell mingled with the musk of my arousal. Pursing my lips, I sipped.<\/p>\n

\u201cMonogamy is not expected of the Seer,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

He was right. Before the War, I could have found my joy in him, used him regularly and with zeal. But unleashing the Third Eye had shifted something inside me, and life\u2019s shallow pleasures no longer sufficed. I wanted more now. More than power. More than adulation. More than sex.<\/p>\n

I wanted love.<\/p>\n

To read the rest, download the ebook today!<\/em><\/p>\n

[wp_eStore_fancy2 id=57]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

ebook $3.99 ISBN 9781613900062 23,900 words [wp_eStore_add_to_cart id=57] The ebook edition is also available at: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Kobo & AllRomanceEbooks. Everyone knows the phrase \u201ca picture is worth a thousand words.\u201d But what if the picture begs for more than a thousand words? This anthology features stories that were inspired by the … Continue reading Masked Pleasures edited by Jennifer Levine<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"parent":871,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-271","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/271","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=271"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/271\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/871"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/circlet.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=271"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}