Today's author in the spotlight is Tyree Kimber. Tyree Q. Kimber was born in California, grew up in central Kansas, and currently live in Kansas City. Tyree has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Theatre from Kansas State University.
"I have always been artistic and possessed of a passion for storytelling. Over the last ten years my interests have shifted increasingly from the performance side of storytelling and into the writing side. Love and sexuality have always fascinated me, as have the fantastical realms of the imagination. Realizing that perhaps these two areas may be two halves of the same whole, I made the decision a few years ago to enter the genre of erotica fantasy. APOCALYPSE WOMAN is the result of that initial foray and I have not looked back since."
"I have always been artistic and possessed of a passion for storytelling. Over the last ten years my interests have shifted increasingly from the performance side of storytelling and into the writing side. Love and sexuality have always fascinated me, as have the fantastical realms of the imagination. Realizing that perhaps these two areas may be two halves of the same whole, I made the decision a few years ago to enter the genre of erotica fantasy. APOCALYPSE WOMAN is the result of that initial foray and I have not looked back since."
Visit Tyree at www.myspace.com/tq_kimber
*
--BLURB--
Selkines Ondine, a minor noblewoman without the means to fulfill her hunger for knowledge and power, faces a lonely life in service to the Aratriconian Church.
To avoid this fate she makes a pact with Abryax, a fallen angel who defied the god Aratricon at the dawn of time.
In exchange for bearing the demon's child she willreceive on wish for anything her heart desires.
Selkines plans to use this wish to gain the wealth and power that society denies her. But the archbishop of the Church has a secret agenda: an interest in Selkines that goes far beyond the religious. And the servants of Heaven will do anything to keep a soul they have set their sights on from Hell's grasp.
Meanwhile Selkines's longsuffering admirer, the poet Erasmus sets out to win her hand as well, unaware that his competition is a creature of ancient and terrible power.
Abryax's motto is that Hell gives us exactly what we want. But Selkines learns that what we want may come in a form we never expected or desire. Heaven and Hell ultimately gather for a showdown with Selkines's body as the battlefield, but Selkines is shocked at the depth of her own capacity to love when Erasmus selflessly enters the conflict for her sake as well.
Selkines Ondine, a minor noblewoman without the means to fulfill her hunger for knowledge and power, faces a lonely life in service to the Aratriconian Church.
To avoid this fate she makes a pact with Abryax, a fallen angel who defied the god Aratricon at the dawn of time.
In exchange for bearing the demon's child she willreceive on wish for anything her heart desires.
Selkines plans to use this wish to gain the wealth and power that society denies her. But the archbishop of the Church has a secret agenda: an interest in Selkines that goes far beyond the religious. And the servants of Heaven will do anything to keep a soul they have set their sights on from Hell's grasp.
Meanwhile Selkines's longsuffering admirer, the poet Erasmus sets out to win her hand as well, unaware that his competition is a creature of ancient and terrible power.
Abryax's motto is that Hell gives us exactly what we want. But Selkines learns that what we want may come in a form we never expected or desire. Heaven and Hell ultimately gather for a showdown with Selkines's body as the battlefield, but Selkines is shocked at the depth of her own capacity to love when Erasmus selflessly enters the conflict for her sake as well.
*
--EXCERPT--
In that hidden vale, with the moon dark and her sins unseen, Selkines began to dance, or, perhaps it should be said, to writhe for her patron's pleasure. It seemed to go on forever, a chaotic series of movements, the best of which were utterly obscene. Yet Selkines continued for what seemed like hours, continued until sweat coated every inch of her painted body and her lithe muscles ached. All the while, she prayed, raggedly chanting dark words until her lungs burned and it seemed the voice was not her own. And then, after it seemed an eternity had passed, with a gesture as vile as it was climatic, the dark dance ended.
Selkines fell to her knees in the dirt, flanks heaving, body glistening, and all silent save for the crackling of the fire. She was utterly exhausted and yet terribly aroused. In truth, the level of sexual hunger she felt was unprecedented, almost painful. Alone with no one to see and no one to stop her, it took all of the willpower she had not to send one hand seeking a pert breast, the other the damp cleft between her thighs, and begin a frenzied effort to release this alien tension playing havoc upon her body and soul. But no, at all costs, she must wait. Still, no sounds came to her except the licking of the flames. But the ritual had to have worked. He had to have heard her entreaty. He must come!
Nothing. Silence. Selkines' heart grew heavy and her loins, ever more impatient. All in vain, then. Her cry had gone unheard. Now, truly, she was alone. And then the fire changed.
First, the bright, blinding white of burning magnesium, then the livid green of burning copper, then, the yellow of a sulphurous cloud. The flames changed, and changed again. And then he was among them. Instantly averting her eyes, Selkines caught only the barest glimpse, but Abryax burned in her memory like the fires of his eyes which sifted in patterns identical to those of the bonfire consecrated to him. Much taller than a man, the demon stood, its limbs and body clothed in a living blackness which seemed to devour all light that touched it. Its masculine face was handsome beyond measure, even in spite of its bone-white skin, small horns, and the bottomless flaming sockets of its eyes. Its - no, his- beauty in all its unholiness was frightening to behold. The hunger in Selkines' loins silently cried out to him and her body trembled.
Abryax emerged from the shifting fire and was immediately before her. Selkines did not dare raise her eyes. What had she done? What would the fallen one demand of her?
An elegant, clawed hand extended languidly toward her and took her by the chin, forcing her to meet the bottomless, beautiful hell of her demon's eyes. Those endless, colorful fires pulled her in, entrapping her in an enchantment of lust. It seemed the price would be exactly as she'd expected. Very well. The lust in her body, already unbearable, now redoubled tenfold at the demon's command. Almost of their own volition, Selkines' hands now moved to her most sacred regions and a blasphemous dance of a new kind now began.
BUY NOW!
In that hidden vale, with the moon dark and her sins unseen, Selkines began to dance, or, perhaps it should be said, to writhe for her patron's pleasure. It seemed to go on forever, a chaotic series of movements, the best of which were utterly obscene. Yet Selkines continued for what seemed like hours, continued until sweat coated every inch of her painted body and her lithe muscles ached. All the while, she prayed, raggedly chanting dark words until her lungs burned and it seemed the voice was not her own. And then, after it seemed an eternity had passed, with a gesture as vile as it was climatic, the dark dance ended.
Selkines fell to her knees in the dirt, flanks heaving, body glistening, and all silent save for the crackling of the fire. She was utterly exhausted and yet terribly aroused. In truth, the level of sexual hunger she felt was unprecedented, almost painful. Alone with no one to see and no one to stop her, it took all of the willpower she had not to send one hand seeking a pert breast, the other the damp cleft between her thighs, and begin a frenzied effort to release this alien tension playing havoc upon her body and soul. But no, at all costs, she must wait. Still, no sounds came to her except the licking of the flames. But the ritual had to have worked. He had to have heard her entreaty. He must come!
Nothing. Silence. Selkines' heart grew heavy and her loins, ever more impatient. All in vain, then. Her cry had gone unheard. Now, truly, she was alone. And then the fire changed.
First, the bright, blinding white of burning magnesium, then the livid green of burning copper, then, the yellow of a sulphurous cloud. The flames changed, and changed again. And then he was among them. Instantly averting her eyes, Selkines caught only the barest glimpse, but Abryax burned in her memory like the fires of his eyes which sifted in patterns identical to those of the bonfire consecrated to him. Much taller than a man, the demon stood, its limbs and body clothed in a living blackness which seemed to devour all light that touched it. Its masculine face was handsome beyond measure, even in spite of its bone-white skin, small horns, and the bottomless flaming sockets of its eyes. Its - no, his- beauty in all its unholiness was frightening to behold. The hunger in Selkines' loins silently cried out to him and her body trembled.
Abryax emerged from the shifting fire and was immediately before her. Selkines did not dare raise her eyes. What had she done? What would the fallen one demand of her?
An elegant, clawed hand extended languidly toward her and took her by the chin, forcing her to meet the bottomless, beautiful hell of her demon's eyes. Those endless, colorful fires pulled her in, entrapping her in an enchantment of lust. It seemed the price would be exactly as she'd expected. Very well. The lust in her body, already unbearable, now redoubled tenfold at the demon's command. Almost of their own volition, Selkines' hands now moved to her most sacred regions and a blasphemous dance of a new kind now began.
BUY NOW!
1 comments:
Wow Eliza, thanks for introducing me to to Tyree. Great excerpt!!
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