On a colony world where joy and pleasure must be bought at a high price, man and vampire live side by dangerous side. Merchants and moneychangers, medics and whores, wizards and everyday men walk this delicate balance. But sometimes the line is crossed, and vampires fall in love with mortal men—or men lose their hearts to the nightwalkers. From erotic to playful and from sensuous to hedonistic, to vampires who steal your dreams and men with the strength and courage to fight, Dante's World holds the pleasures of the forbidden for all who are willing to take them.
This collection contains the previously released novellas Black Leather Night and Other Tales, Tale of the Night, Crimson Nights, Sixty-Nine Reasons, and Missing Pieces. This collection is also available in print.
"I just love Willa Okati's work. She writes funny and darkly erotic tales about vamps and other paranormals; she is entertaining without ever losing the black edginess that characterizes her work. She is also not afraid to lavishly detail and find the beauty in homoerotic intimacy. Black Leather Night and Other Tales is a treasure; a trio of tales skillfully crafted and served up for your pleasure. Enjoy!"
-- Michelle, Fallen Angel Reviews
"Positively stunning dynamics. Ms. Okati did an excellent job of making me squirm as she built the sexual tension in each story. Well worth another read just for the entertainment value even more so when you factor in the erotic suspense."
-- Keely Skillman, Coffee Time Romance
"Sincerely moving and erotically charged.... Willa Okati has penned two short stories that are beautifully rendered and touching in their appeal."
-- TwoLips Reviews
"What a monumentally erotic story of massive proportions. Just when you think the story is going to go one way, its twists and you're taken down another road entirely. High praise to the Willa Okati for her wonderful characters and plot line; there was never a dull moment through this story."
-- Amanda H., Fallen Angel Reviews
"4.5 Kisses, 2 Peppers! The incomparable Willa Okati delivers yet another sizzler in her prolific writing career. She knows well her history and weaves it into a plausible fantasy tale set in the Dante's World Universe..."
-- Frost, Two Lips Reviews
"Willa Okati's vampire series draws me back each and every time she writes another. Her style of vampires is so erotic and passionate that I just want more... I can't wait to see what she writes next."
-- Nicole Harvey, PNR Reviews
"The ever-expanding imagination of Willa Okati delivers another great tale from the Dante's World series. Missing Pieces will prick the reader's imagination with its mystery and intrigue."
-- Frost, TwoLips Reviews
"This is beautifully written, both the setting and the characters came alive for me and I could practically feel the cold outside, and the heat inside. Highly recommended!"
-- Alex, Night Owl Romance Reviews
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Black Leather Night and Other Tales (Box Set)
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2008 by Willa Okati
Gods damn it.
It was, so far as the vampire Robhain could tell, very early in the evening, barely past dusk, yet his human employees, Del and Byrne, had already arrived for business. Del, yawning widely enough to show off all his white teeth, clutched a cup of the expensive cafe imported from Terra, likely bought from a street vendor. Still laughing a little at some joke the boy must have made, Byrne shrugged off his street jacket to hang it on the post by his desk.
Watching the pair, Robhain knew he should only be proud of them. They were, after all, expecting an important shipment of magical artifacts at any time that night, and they needed to be ready with both warding spells and records of what they'd netted. But watching them from his office, behind a tinted window -- protection against occasional bursts of light as day approached -- Robhain's teeth began to grind.
Let the gods have mercy. Byrne! He wore his favorite pair of ass-hugging leather pants for the second night in a row. Hurrying to arrive early enough, he must have taken his motorcycle to the stores and left it parked up top, above the basement showroom.
Watching him, Robhain's expression soured. Byrne. Fresh off the street and every inch a contradiction with his prim, rimless glasses and helmet-mussed hair, starched linen shirt and painted-on pants… didn't he realize how tight they were? Molding as they did to his legs and the too-damn-perfect curve of his shapely ass? Leaving nothing to the imagination?
Especially when, as a vampire, Robhain could smell what he'd been doing, wearing them.
Who was she? he seethed. Some bit of blonde fluff from one of the flesh-parlors, all dazzling smile and tight ass or generous tits? Even across the room, he could smell that Byrne reeked of come.
Robhain's mouth worked, and he swallowed. By rights, that come should belong to him. Should flow into his mouth alone. But what was he but a coward? Unable to approach his very human mage-employee, or to make but the meekest suggestions that were blithely misunderstood as innocent… Fool. As if a vampire could ever be innocent.
His molars were beginning to creak ominously and his small, pointed fangs cut into his lips. Reluctantly he loosened his jaw. Facts were facts. Humans did not mingle willingly with the vampire-kind. It stood as miracle enough that Byrne worked with him in the business. Likely it caused him no little loss of caste in human society.
Not for the first time, he wondered why Byrne chose to work for him. The man's talent could have secured him a place in the Suzerain's palace. Instead he chose to work as mage and record-keeper in a secondhand artifact store, where lesser magicians and warriors came to buy enchanted goods.
Robhain would never, on that level, cease to be grateful for Byrne's assistance. Able to detect the slightest nuance of malicious spell-craft on a weapon or artifact, he was damned good at what he did. Robhain could not do without him -- most such charms were made to harm those of his bloodthirsty ilk, and did not care whether he drank blood fetched from the slaughterhouses or from the hot human vein. With his magics, Byrne had saved his hide a hundred times over.
Watching him, Robhain laid a hand on the glass, as if he could touch the man as he flipped through papers on his overloaded cubby desk. Not that he had never felt the warmth of that skin before, of course -- their hands had brushed, their hips had bumped -- just enough contact to entice him, to send him to daylight slumber with his cock so hard and ready that barely a touch brought him to a scorching completion.
And then, other times, they had actually embraced in relief when a spell turned out a success. Hip to hip, pounding one another's backs. Each time, holding that slender body to his, Robhain had burned for more. To take that slim face between his hands, tilt it just so to one side, and press their lips together…
Well. Byrne was the sort of temptation that could cause a centuries-old creature to shame himself by soiling his own trousers with a climax as soon as he reached the safety of his office.
Not for the first time, he tried to puzzle out why. Byrne was nothing special. An ordinary man -- but ah, with such an extraordinary face, his eyes blue as the sky Robhain had not seen for so long, blue as the ocean, blue as lapis lazuli. His smile -- rarely seen, for he was seriously-natured -- warming as the long-forgotten sunlight on Robhain's skin. To luxuriate in those eyes and smile were more than he dared dream on.
And ah, such an impossible dream. For a vampire to force himself on an unwilling human meant death from those who handed down laws saying what a vampire could or could not do. They must not drink from the vein. They must not antagonize the humans. And not to be forgotten, they must not molest the humans in any way. Their tolerance was zero and justice swiftly delivered. While he knew Byrne to be faithful and fond of his employer, he was also a proud and powerful man. No doubt he would never suffer unwanted advances without immediate retribution.
Yet he taunted Robhain constantly, unconsciously, with his very presence, and in particular on days when he wore those thrice be-damned leather pants.
Crossing the room, Byrne glanced at him behind his window and threw up his hand, smiling in greeting. Robhain nodded in return and discreetly, behind his back, snapped a stylus in half.
That man would be the second death of him.
It was too early for customers as yet -- they rarely came until full dark -- so Robhain chose to remain in his office, going over letters and transmissions informing him of possible new sources of booty. Mercifully Byrne sank out of sight behind the piles of paper on his desk, rummaging around with his beloved books. Still, he could hear that warm, human-accented voice calling snips of information out to Del, diligently dusting and polishing braziers and daggers.
Del. A handsome lad, with ebony hair far too long and eyes far too bright green. Robhain was certain he had some Fey blood in him. Perhaps third or fourth generation. He passed as human, at any rate, but would certainly stand on their outskirts. Reason enough for him to be glad of a job with Robhain. He did well enough at it, though he was flightily-natured.
More than once, he had considered bedding the boy instead of fruitlessly aching for Byrne. He would likely be willing, and given his heritage, there would be no repercussions. But though he tried, he could barely raise his staff to half-mast over the thought of Del's nimble flanks and flashing grin. Not when there was Byrne.
Neither paid him any attention as they went about their business, thank the gods that holy men claimed had long since turned their backs on Robhain.
Determined, he returned to the business at hand, ignoring the men as they ignored him. Ignoring Byrne, and those leather pants. Leather. The stylus slipped from Robhain's hand and bounced heedlessly on the floor as he stared out, hoping to catch a glimpse. Really, the man showed shocking ignorance or tremendous nerve to wear them a second day. Once was bad enough. Robhain could control himself and his shock over the pants one day at a time. But two days running of the slick, soft leather, black as night, clinging to Byrne's shapely ass…
Leather called to him. It sang a bewitching melody that brought out his inner beast. Life had been given for that fabric, and when Byrne wore it, the sound became a siren's song.
His cock jumped and twitched within his own linen trousers, wanting to play.
Behave, he told it sternly.
Unfortunately it was not in the mood to listen.
Come what might, it would be better for him that day if he remained inside his office. Yes, hiding, and what of it? Hiding behind his good, solid desk. With a book on his lap. A heavy book. To be on the safe side. Yes.
But as he settled the book into place, Byrne stood and stretched, leather clinging to his thighs. Robhain's stubborn prick, with a mind of its own, swelled half-hard. Perhaps sheer willpower could…
Of course. And he could also fly.
He propped the book in front of the impromptu tent in his trousers to conceal it, and with a great effort, he composed his expression. If Byrne were to come in, he wouldn't be able to smell Robhain's arousal, but surely he'd notice the ravenous look on his face.
Calm. He had to calm down. This was lust. Not unlike the blood lust he sometimes felt when he forgot to feed. This was leather lust. Nothing more.
But as he began to read the tiny script of the heavy book, his mind -- evil thing -- drifted away, sketching out dream after delicious dream. Taking Byrne up against that bookcase in the showroom. Pinning his wrists above his head. Nuzzling deep into his neck. Rubbing his dripping cock between the cleft of Byrne's ass. Or Byrne, bent over the desk, Robhain dragging that leather down over his ass. His hands scrabbling for purchase as Robhain stroked, cupped, and pinched. Sliding his hand deeper and brushing against a cock hard as…
… his own.
Robhain groaned, shutting the book. So much for that plan.