Excerpt of Redeemer of Shadows by Michelle M. Pillow

"What is her crime?" an excited voice shouted from the watching crowd. Hathor recognized the older woman with her college boy.

The music lowered by degrees until it was a soft thud in the background, once more stirring the desires of those watching. The crowd's hands grew empowered by the wickedly delectable show, and their lips found temptation in the arms of the others gathered. The bodies mingled together with the beginnings of an orgy. Flesh pressed against heated flesh as they waited for Servaes to speak. Lips parted, revealing more fangs hidden within the crowd. Their combined breaths caught up in a rhythm of sensual pleasure and denial.

Slowly, Servaes moved over the stage, keeping everyone on his own time. A smile curved his luscious mouth, and he looked over the crowd in languid perusal from his deep–set eyes. Hathor shivered as the red light glinted in his devilishly handsome gaze, looking as if it came more from within him than reflected from him. His eyes narrowed with a bright, feverish tint. Arousal, swift and strong, coursed through her veins. Hathor gasped, nearly fainting with the unexpected intensity of it.

Ginger felt her shiver and mistook its cause. Leaning closer, she fitted her moistened lips to Hathor's throat. Hathor stood transfixed by the man on the stage. She felt teeth brush her skin, but it didn't snap her thoughts back to awareness. At the same time Ginger kissed Hathor's pale flesh, her hands found the rounded tilt of her confined breast.

"Crime?" Servaes stated in ominous declaration. His word was as soft as a whisper and held the deadly pleasing lilt of an old culture.

Pick me, Hathor breathed, unable to stop the thought as she watched him.

Servaes suddenly stopped moving. His serious eyes turned from the stage to dart over the crowd. The smile melted from his lips, replaced by a snarl of confusion.

"How about we go find a seat?" Ginger offered with hot pants against Hathor's skin. "Servaes can see you better if you are in the crowd."

Hathor gasped in shock and pulled away. This wanton attitude was not like her. She didn't want to sleep with perfect strangers, no matter how handsome they were. The spell she felt cast about her suddenly broke. A cloud lifted from her brain, a haze melted off her limbs, seeming to run onto the floor to puddle around her feet. Shaking her head, she was suddenly very frightened. Her voice cracked, "I—"

With a pull and a gasp, Ginger's gaze hastened to the stage. Her eyes narrowed to glare in defiance at the man on stage. Her nostrils flared. Then, almost instantly, she lifted up her hands and bowed in remorse. Hathor thought she noticed the glint of extended fangs in the woman's mouth. Ginger backed away from her. Hathor noticed an inner flash to the woman's eyes—pooling red with blood for an instant. The woman's gaze flitted back to the stage and she smiled like a punished child. Yes, Ginger definitely had fangs.

The hairs on the nape of Hathor's neck lifted as she spun back around. Her heart began to pound faster in dismay. Her breathing deepened. The crowd had gone extremely quiet. Her blood rushed loudly in her ears as she turned to see all eyes on her—the intruder in their midst. Even the offerings stopped in their task to glare at her. In a flash, no longer than a blink, she saw red trails of blood coming from the dancers' fanged mouths, falling over their throats to disappear into the valley of their breasts. Their victim lay barely moving beneath them. In a daze, Hathor blinked heavily to see the blood was gone.

Servaes arrogantly stood on the stage. His eyes bore into her, the brown depths glowing eerily with an unfamiliar light. Suddenly, a green tint flashed over the captivating orbs. Hathor felt herself caught up in his stare. Her lungs forgot to pull air. It was as if he was inside her, searching through her thoughts, listening to her heart. Somehow he didn't seem angry at her presence, just confused, as if he probed her for something he couldn't find. Her body hummed as if on fire. She heard his voice in her head, whispering words she couldn't understand, in a language she couldn't know.

He opened his mouth as if to speak. All of a sudden, he seemed aware of where he was. No words came from his curling lips. Hathor backed away slowly from the prying eyes. Those with fangs watched her, the red stage lights reflecting off their eyes.

"He has picked," someone whispered near Hathor's shoulder.

Hathor shook her head slowly in denial. Her eyes stayed fixed on the Marquis. Her limbs quaked with dread. She couldn't go on stage. What was she doing? She should have run from this place as soon as she walked in. Quickly, she backed into the shadows away from his notice. His eyes followed her, as if he could see her in the impossible darkness.

A spell trapped her limbs with a numbing force when Servaes looked at her, making it hard to move. A slight frown came over his features at her rejection of his attention. Then a smirk lined his confident lips as he turned back to the crowd. He ignored her.

"Her crime..." he stated with a wave that encompassed the room, bringing the attention back to him. Instantly, the penetrating eyes of the crowd were drawn away from her, and Hathor felt as if she could once again breathe freely. She watched him point to the offering to be punished as he continued, "is that she denied her partner release after finding her own fulfillment."