Horror erotic romance? Brenna Zinn says, Oh, yeah

What’s this, you ask.  Horror Erotic Romance??  How can horror be erotic?  How can horror be romantic?  They go together like peanut butter and bacon. (And do you not LOVE the cover?)

But have you ever TRIED peanut butter and bacon?  I’m here to tell you, it’s yummy.  So is horror erotic romance. 

There’s nothing more invigorating, more spine tingling than a hero and a heroine in a situation where tension is high, nerves are on end, the completely unexplainable is happening.  Danger, drama, and hot kinky sex get our blood pumping and keep our noses into books.  So, ya.  Horror erotic romance really makes some good sense, and is probably why the genre is currently one of the hottest out there.

Halloween right around the corner, our taste for something a little scary peaks.  And lucky us, Ellora’s Cave, the number one publisher for erotic romance, delivers on not only the scary, but hot BDSM.

But don’t be confused. My latest Ellora’s Cave release, Rise of the Dom, isn’t a story about having sex with ghosts or the walking dead.  Nope.  Imagine a hot alpha male Dom, his sexy as sin sub, and an evil dead Dom who is hell-bent on continuing to control from beyond the grave.  But let me give you a little taste…

Rise of the Dom by Brenna Zinn

Copyright 2012  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

Excerpt:

Chet placed his arm under Emma’s bent knees, then lifted her legs. When they were high enough that he could see the familiar curves of her apple bottom, he stopped. “You have disobeyed me. This is your punishment.”

He raised his hand over his shoulder and held his position. Emma didn’t need to know exactly when his palm would strike her ass. Better to prolong the suspense. Anticipation was such a decadent tool to use with a sub. As far as she knew, she would stay in this position for hours until he delivered the blow.

A sudden movement in the kitchen distracted Chet. A shiver registered on his skin as the temperature plummeted. He flicked his gaze in the direction of the stirring, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. The bright kitchen and the white table and chairs appeared untouched. Unmoved.

I know I saw something…

Out of the corner of his eye, he detected another movement. Something black. No more than four feet in height. When Chet shifted his eyes to see what the object was, there was nothing. Only clear countertops and an empty hallway leading to the living room.

Chet mentally shook his head. When was the last time he’d had his eyes checked? Three years? Five?

Realizing he still had his hand high over his head, ready to deliver Emma’s punishment, he decided it was time. His dick was hard and he wanted to feel the tight walls of her pussy coaxing him to come.

Yet a noise, quiet but growing louder, buzzed close by. He strained to identify the sound.

A fly? A bee?

He turned his head left and right, taking in every inch of the pantry and kitchen. Nothing he could see would generate such a strange hum. Not even a trapped insect trying to escape out a closed window. But the buzz was there, growing louder by the second.

He jerked back when he thought he detected mumbled words within the buzzing. A man’s voice, deep and forceful, whispered directly into his ear. At the same time a powerful mixture of anger and rage overwhelmed his senses, filling him as though he were an empty vessel.

You’re too soft.

She’s been willfully disobedient. She must be trained to obey.

Hit her hard. Hurt her. Ensure she knows you are her Master.

Chet glanced back at Emma. She gave no indication she heard anything out of the ordinary.

The woman is your slave. Your bitch. Your cunt.

Punish her. Make her writhe in pain.

HURT HER!

Chet shook his head to rid himself of the angry voice provoking him.

NO! Chet silently shouted in his mind. I will not harm her. This is for her pleasure, not mine.

Tensing his arm, he swung down and slapped her bare ass with his hand. Though he restrained from hitting her too hard, the resulting loud smack broke the silence of the room. Chet remained unmoved as the sting of the spank traveled up his arm. The throb, heightened by the chill in the air, registered with his cock, which twitched beneath his jeans.

Despite the strike to her rear end, Emma made no further sound.

You’re no Dom, the voice admonished.

You’re a boy.

A pretender.

An embarrassment.

Once again the odd noise buzzed in Chet’s ear, but the intense feelings of anger and hatred melted from him. A streak of darkness on the edge of his peripheral vision pulled his gaze over his shoulder. He studied the limited view of the hallway from his place on the stairs.

Nothing was there.

He ran his fingers through his hair. Between the weird voice and the crazy tricks his eyes were playing on him, he was losing his fucking mind.

Concentrate, damn it. Don’t let Emma down. She’s depending on you to take this scene to completion.

Out of guilt or for good measure, he wasn’t sure which, he struck Emma’s ass again. She absorbed the pain, uttering not a word, moving not a muscle.

Satisfied he’d punished her sufficiently, Chet lowered his arm, allowing her legs to rest back on the steps leading down to the dungeon. He repositioned himself, then slid his hand up her thigh to remove her panties.

A crash, as though something heavy and breakable had been thrown to the floor, sounded from one of the rooms on the second floor.

Emma jerked upright and turned. Alarm filled her hazel eyes. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.” Heart racing with a jolt of adrenaline, Chet grabbed the railing and pulled himself up. He stepped past Emma into the kitchen, fully prepared to kick ass and ask questions later if he had to. “Any idea what that was?”

“No.” She reached for her clothes. Without bothering to put on her top, she held the blouse like a flimsy shield in front of her chest while fumbling to put on her shorts. “It sounded like it came from my bedroom.”

Chet rushed to a counter and pulled a large knife from a butcher-block knife stand. The sharpened edge of the blade glinted in the last remaining rays from the setting sun. “I know how you feel about me roaming around your place outside of the dungeon, but you said you saw something in your room last night. I need to check this out.”

As he turned to leave, she stood and caught his arm. Lines of worry creased her forehead. A shadow of unease covered her expression like a dark mask. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just something that fell by accident. I probably didn’t set something on my nightstand properly and it rolled off.”

“Whatever that was couldn’t have been sitting on your nightstand. It sounded huge.” He tried to pull away from her grasp, but she tightened her grip. “What? Why don’t you want me to go upstairs?”

She frowned and shook her head. “You don’t understand. I need a place I can go that’s all my own. A private place that’s just for me.”

So you don’t have to get too close to me. That’s what you really mean.

Impatience mixed with the adrenaline already pumping into his blood and muscles. “I do understand, but your safety is more important to me than your privacy. Let me go.”

“Okay.” Emma sighed as she removed her hold. She tugged on her blouse. “But I’m going with you.”

Unwilling to waste any more time, Chet nodded and ran down the short hallway. Emma followed closely behind. After reaching the bottom of the stairs, he used his long legs to his advantage, taking two steps at a time. He stopped at the second-story landing to catch his bearings. Never having been on this floor before, he wasn’t sure which door lead to her bedroom.

“This way.” Emma edged past him, taking a sharp turn to the left.

With his free hand, Chet grabbed the back of her shorts and stopped her in her tracks. “Me first. I’m the one with the knife in my hand. Remember?”

Taking the lead, he grabbed the door handle and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He swung the door open, holding the knife high in the air, ready to strike.

Near a bank of windows a cardboard box lay on its side, its top flaps up and open. The contents of the box, mostly picture frames and knickknacks, littered the carpeted floor. The force of the fall had scattered pieces of broken glass all the way to the foot of Emma’s neatly made bed. Other boxes stood precariously stacked against the wall.

“See. No big deal. One of my boxes fell.” Emma knelt and picked up a large shard of glass.

The short hairs on the back of his neck rose as Chet entered the room and glanced around. When he saw the back wall, his blood ran cold. His grip tightened on the kitchen knife. Unable to utter a word, he tapped Emma’s back.

When she looked up, her gaze darted from his face to the wall. A full heartbeat passed before she caught her breath and let out a horrified scream.

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