Hellé is damned if she does and damned if she doesn't...leave Hell before another sunrise.
After the ten-thousandth fight with her father, the Devil's daughter is forced to surrender her trident and true love in order to save Earth from devastation of a magnitude it's never known. More than a few pulses are raised when Hellé Hawthorn and her minions hit Sin City on the hottest day of summer and make their business every man's pleasure.
Excerpt from the erotica paranormal romance, HELLE IN HEELS by Shawna Moore --
Naked except for some of my favorite gold jewelry, I took one last look at the hellhole that had served as my private domain since birth. Lavender-blue deposits of ameniorite, a rare gem as yet undiscovered by those aboveground, twinkled where my mirrors weren’t placed. Gorgeous ameniorite, the miracle rock that would seal the success of my elixir—or drop me back down to Hell and a fiery grave. A glance in all directions made my last memory.
Whatever I needed, I would pick up at the chic boutique on Bourbon. On the cedar chest, my favorite Kate Spade satchel lay open. If I were into blessing people, I’d bless the generous clotheshorse that descended here after an untimely death late last week. Who would have thought my pairing her with a wicked fashion designer would gain me such a special gift? She’d perished while still clutching that trendy piece and brought it with her to Hell. What a shame to let that lovely handbag behind. But better here than being reduced to ashes upon my special ascent.
Caminosh would find my goodbye note and claim the spring bag sought by many on Earth. She was a she-beast totally clueless about fashion but a friend to the end. Too bad she wouldn’t part company with her hell-raiser and accompany me to what lay thousands of feet above us. I blew a kiss at the far mirror. As long as she polished these lovelies, I wouldn’t care if she took over my favorite spot in the whole wide underworld.
But if a single fingerprint marred their shiny surfaces, I’d find a way to pay her a visit on Halloween and make her ass-length brunette hair curl like a poodle’s.
I wound my black mane into a knot and fastened it with a fistful of pins. They’d likely all fall out upon my ascent, but at least they’d keep my hair in place until then. Stifling a yawn, I flexed the fingers not covered from bottom knuckle to middle by bands of gold. Once I arrived in New Orleans I’d pay for my shopping spree with a couple of them. The shop owner would be far ahead in the transaction, since I always believed in heavy tipping.
I might be the Devil’s daughter, but I never had to steal anything—even a date to the Devilish Debs dress balls in years past.
And once I hit the jackpot at Harrah’s, my day spa and massaging divas would be on the lips of every male.
I claimed the vial from the champagne satin comforter, pulled out the cork and tossed down the bitter deep-purple contents. My gut roiled but soon got over its snack. Hopefully my body would cooperate once I passed from my world to the real world. Unknown to others, I’d reached the Kellion level several times but my lack of focus and the fact I had the hots for a particularly handsome former rugby player prevented me from breaking through.
Today failure wasn’t an option. If I did, I’d perish in the pit of which so many had spoken in hushed tones. Hell wasn’t home for me anymore, with Satan out to claim more than my soul because of a good argument gone bad after too many rounds and too many centuries.
I smashed the vial against the far cave fall and ground the glass shards into the spaces in the rock flooring.
Without a backward glance I rushed from the room and made my way to the Crystal Chamber. My body was already vibrating, my bones closing upon themselves. I quickened my pace and traveled through the various tunnels and passageways at warp speed.
At reaching the sapphire-inlaid altar, I clutched myself, fingernails digging into the flesh of my triceps. Flames rose from the adjacent fire pits. Smoke curled toward an interminable blackness. The same blackness my body would soon penetrate. A tapping beset my skin. I stared at the stalactites encrusted with rich mineral deposits. Those deposits contained the most powerful energy down here other than that emanating from His Royal Pain-in-the-Ass, my father, the Devil.
I took several steps to the right and poised my right great toe over the rendering of Bacchus and the left over the Pyramids. Egypt and Rome were diametrically opposed cultures, but my research and formulas yielded these were my markers for a journey to New Orleans. My skin pulsed and violent spasms rocked me from my hair roots to my heels. I stretched my arms toward the sky that lay well beyond this world and my imagination. Energy exchanged between my body and the space where the crystals lay. Every pore on my body now seeped the substance providing the elements and energy that would draw me up and away from the world where I no longer belonged.
A peculiar force hauled me from the platform and I closed my eyes. The stench of damp rock. The nipple ring leaving my flesh. Cold fingers of air teasing my exposed body. A din that rendered me deaf except to the voice inside my own head. The voice that willed me to focus. Focus on getting the hell out of Hell.
As the air lightened, I opened my eyes. Swarms of mila bugs, each almost translucent and no bigger than a pin’s head, flitted in front of my face. As my ascent stopped I puffed them away. I’d reached Kellion. Opening my fists, I drew my left middle fingertip over one of the protruding crystals directly above my head. Blood oozed from the wound and I milked out several more droplets. Then, placing my bleeding finger upon my tongue, I closed my mouth and eyes and focused.
“Blood from my body, serve as the final catalyst that allows me to pierce the Kellion and reach my desired portal.” I repeated the words over and over.
My body pulsed, this time as though tossed by the waves of the ocean during a storm. I shot upward, my hair wrenched from the pins and nearly pulled out by the roots. Bile rose in my throat. Tears burned behind my closed lids. Hot and cold air alternated in currents over my damp skin.
Bring it on, Bacchus. Laissez les Bon Temps Rouler. Let those good times roll like never before.
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Wishing you all many happy reading moments,
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