I’ve been exploring more of my dark side as of late. Of course part of this is getting back into writing with my co-partner – Christian Jensen. The man truly has an evil mind. He draws out the rather sinful and murderous woman buried inside. Don’t worry, I only act out on my vicious needs in books, but I certainly garner torturous thoughts and needs from dealing with certain assholes in my life. That’s the beauty of bad menbeing able to write in several genres. When I’m pissed off, I slap on heavy metal music and write about ripping heads, drinking blood and otherwise removing body parts.

It’s okay to cringe. On the flip side, when I’m feeling a bit naughty, passionate and in needs of a spanking, I can sit during a hurricane and write a hot sex scene or ten without blinking. I don’t have the typical follower as far as a reader because you never know what I might write next. I’m working on a collection of short stories for Volume 3 of my Dark, Dangerous and Delicious collection. Honestly, the little pieces started from doing flash fiction on the blogs – just a taste of what was going on in my mind. I decided to finish them and a collection was born.

Volume three is much darker, closer to dub con (dubious content) and the stories are expanding my mind. I’m in a rather dark place in my life, trying to regroup, and the stories truly allow me an avenue of release. Here’s a little taste of one that you might like. Oh, they’re all very sexual with a dangerous flair. The three  – or maybe four – will be coming to Booktrope along with all of my tasty, horrific and sexual books with Chris. Keep a watchful eye…


I am damned. I am the undead. The thought reverberated in the back of his mind. Damon Chevelle stood in line, images of the past night more than unsettling. He’d slaughtered a woman, cut her into ribbons, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. There’d been such joy seeing her empty eyes. He licked his lips, remnants of the taste of her skin sending a roar of hunger deep into his stomach. He’d grown insatiable as of late. The reason was clear. He was dying. Feeding to prevent the onslaught of his demise was now merely an instinct for survival. How ridiculous the concept truly was.

He studied the end of his finger and smiled. With one scrap of his finger down the side of her face she’d managed to lure her away from her friends. He had panache. Her lifeless body had no doubt been found. Still, there was nothing on the news. Perhaps the kill was too gruesome even for the media. He chuckled at the thought. They were spineless bastards hungry for the next hot story, no matter how mutilated the victim.

“Honey, you in line?” Her southern drawl was fake, much like her enormous tits.

Damon loathed American women, but at this point he simply required convenience. Still, this one would leave a bad taste in his mouth. “Go right ahead. I always prefer standing behind an exquisite woman.”

She blushed, her mottled skin glowing in the low voltage light of the swinging track. “My, my, you are quite the gentleman.”

“Indeed.” She’d eaten sushi the night before. Her body reeked of iodine and cigarettes, two disgusting entities. Repulsed, he allowed two more people in front of him. At least the scent of the older woman was pleasant, a mixture of lilies and some unidentifiable Black man in controlcream. He closed his eyes, envisioning ripping open her throat, drinking her blood before chewing through tissue and bone. She’d be a mere morsel. Today he craved more. Today he needed sex and violence.

He eyed the group of patrons in front of him. The same clueless people frequented the coffee shop almost every day. Yes, he was here as well, craving coffee as well as time to learn about the miniscule lives humans considered so precious. He wasn’t a patient man, refused to participate in the day-to-day activities so many considered normal. Normal. What a crock of shit. He became lost in his desires, deep longings that had been with him since his youth, the moment he’d been captured, nearly ripped apart by wolves, but he’d been saved then sent to a special place in Hell.

“Next please.”

The shrill words floated about the chatter. He inhaled, relishing in identifying several delicious scents, feminine needs. He could easily tell when a woman was ripe, her needs yanking away her otherwise gentile persona.

“May I have a coffee with cream?”

“That’s all?”

Damon tilted his head, enabling him to see over the line. He glanced at his watch and smiled. She was always on time, never variation in her schedule or in her selection. She had a hard edge to her porcelain skin, her body molded in a manner suggesting self-control. He could easily imagine shredding her clothes, tying her to a cross and inflicting pain. Fingering his belt, his visions turned darker, her lovely skin bloodied and bruised. Perhaps he’d skin this one alive first. Yes, the thought was riveting.

“Coffee with cream. Please.” Her voice more insistent, she gave the overweight woman behind the counter a harsh glare. “I thought I was very clear, or are you simply too dense to understand plain English?”

The woman gasped, her puffy face bright red.

He grinned. Formidable. His palate varied, but seducing a woman of attitude was his favorite treat. The taste of her, while usually sweet, was almost always laced with a hint of acid, a substance his body craved. After adjusting his tie, he studied her legs, the way her ass hugged the tight skirt. When she was handed the coffee, offering a credit card, he resisted allowing a single expression. She wasn’t paying attention to anything but her stance on looking down at the now red-faced, sweating woman.

“What a fucking bitch. The little slut thinks she’s all that. I know who you are. You’re a whore and everyone knows it.”

Only he could pick up the words muttering under the fat woman’s breath. While the clerk was close, very close, the lovely so-called slut was hiding a secret. He was like a kid in a candy store, ready to unwrap a candy bar.

The raven-haired beauty laughed softly to herself, the glare remaining.my slave

His cock ached, throbbing against his zipper. A morning snack was too dangerous, but coffee with a beautiful woman, engaging in deep conversation would wet his appetite.

“Here you are. I hope you come again.” The clerk sneered.

As she grabbed her credit card, shoving the thin plastic into her purse, a smirk remained on her face. “Thank you. I hope you have a very nice day.” Her words dripped of sarcasm. Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she tossed back her hair and walked toward the only empty table in the coffee shop.

Of course he’d observed she’d always sat at the very same table, one reserved right in front of the picture window. He’d been curious over the last two weeks, wondering why no one had ever taken her place, as if they knew what time she would arrive. Were they enamored by her long, raven hair or her intense cerulean blue eyes? Perhaps. He suspected they all assumed she was a high dollar hooker, meeting her marks at the location every day. He’d witnessed her making phone calls, but never had a single man been brave enough to approach her table. Today, everything would change.

Just a snack to “wet” your appetite. Aren’t I evil?

Kisses and spanks…


About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
This entry was posted in BDSM, creatures of the night, curse, Domination and submission and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Damned

  1. lmwmrd says:

    Yes, VERY evil…I love this!


  2. laurellasky says:

    So dark and evil. Awesome. More please.


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