I AM SO DAMN HANDSOME!!!

www.yaoi-books.com
I cannot believe that even at over 3,000 years I still look so good.

A Werewolf Transforms

Tigran's transformation begins with a foaming mouth.

Then faster than the eye can perceive, he begins to transform.

In this form, his name is RedWolf.

http://www.yaoi-books.com/

The Predator gets Preyed Upon

The next morning we heard the sound of deep snoring coming from the pen. Tigran, now in a dog form, was sleeping with his jaws clamped on the limp form of a weasel—yes, it was a long, muscular, snake-like brown creature. Its mouth hung open, revealing long, white teeth. When he heard us approaching, Tigran shook the dead creature once again, I suppose in an attempt to show us his kill.
“How could such a small creature be so deadly?” my host asked.
“My dear foolish Forrest,” I began. “Why not?”
“It seems so wrong,” Forrest said. “I always thought that animals killed because they had to eat. This thing killed for sport. It never ate much of anything. It just enjoyed murdering things. People do that, not animals. Besides, weasels are supposed to kill rats. We have so many of them. Why not murder all of them?”
I had to laugh. “Fool! Humans are animals! As animals are savage, so are we. The only thing that changes this is human culture. It teaches us that killing for sport is wrong—not that this stops wanton killing, but at least it keeps the bulk of people in check. Do you not observe how human children are so savage? If they could, they would inflict great harm on their peers. They do quite often. When I was a skinny scrap of a boy I was bullied mercilessly. Day in and day out, children from my village beat me, inflicted upon me cruel verbal abuse, and caused me to live in perpetual fear. Animals are made of the same stuff as we are. Some animals, like some humans, are not vicious. Some, like the worst of our kind, are monstrous.”
Tigran began to crunch on the creature’s head. I pet his soft fur, and he dropped the headless corpse at my feet, perhaps inviting me to eat of the kill. I found it to be rather pungent. It was no doubt a male.
http://www.yaoi-books.com/

The Case of the Heinous Slaughter

I have explained to you before that I am living at the residence of a self-styled farmer by the name of KB Forrest. He owns well over 100 acres of land infested with every manner of varmint. He admits this, yet refuses to find a more habitable location. This morning he went to feed animals, which he keeps for some sort of sadistic pleasure. He has furry rabbits, pigeons with tails like peacocks, and some with feathers sprouting in topknots from their heads. There are strange quail, ducks, chickens, peacocks, pheasants, and all manner of rare creatures that seem to have been bred by a madman.
In any case, when he returned to the house, I was foraging for a morning meal with my fledgling Tigran, who was tearing up a bag he found. I do not know what it contained. I noticed that the man, Forrest, looked dejected and unhappy. Being a good guest, I asked why? He said that although he had fortified the large cages thoroughly, something had magically entered one of them and had killed all of his beloved pigeons. The apparition, as he called it, had done other unspeakable damage. He asked for my help.
I followed him with Tigran loping alongside me. I saw a profusion of colorful feathers strewn about. It made Tigran hungry, but I cautioned him to refrain. A flayed skull of a bird was the first flesh I saw. Next, what was once a graceful white bird lay with its belly torn open and the ribs cleaned of flesh. A mound of bird legs and heads were in a corner, but mostly they had been simply killed and thrown to the side.
The most grotesque sight was the rabbits. They had been white with dark ears and a profusion of fur around the necks. He called them “lion heads.” Three of them had been attacked, but not killed. Two had missing eyes. All had been mauled about the face and were bloodied. I even saw one struggling to breathe.
“Why do you not put them to death so as to stop their suffering?” I asked. But I should have known that squeamish man would refuse, saying that he would try to save them. “Would you like me to kill them, then?” I offered, knowing that he was simply delicate.
“How could the creature have gotten in? There are no holes in the wire,” he asked, avoiding my question. “I have sealed off any means of entry!” he cried.
“I will investigate,” I said, thinking that if any evil were perpetrated in my area, I would not allow it unless it was my own. Sorcerers are quite territorial. I will investigate and tell you my findings.

Back From Xwaresmia--The Sorcerer Gaumata

I have spent time in Xwaresmia trying to sort out my priorities. I really think I have to put together a book of spells and curses. The other thing that has vexed me is that my associate, Tigran, who is a demon, is proving difficult to train. I did not realize that he was as young as he was when I took him on as an acolyte. He is powerful, but in need of a strong hand. 
I have included these proofs: see the picture labeled “werewolf,” above.  In it you see him transforming. Note his moon-like eyes. Yet he forgets to finish the transformation and it appears ridiculous. The next photo shows him sprouting an eye from the side of his face. He had four eyes, some of which roved aimlessly. It was quite gruesome, but he was asleep. When he awoke, his face returned to normal. 
I think he has potential, however, so I will not give up. I feel that I may become attached to him, and this is not at all desirable. I must focus on the task of finding a suitable post to occupy. There is no longer an emperor of any stature in this unfortunate world, and I do not wish to occupy the throne of a weakling. The world has changed for the worse. I may retire to the forest, but I still covet power.

Psamtik's Mother--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The work done for the day, Matwa went to Psamtik, the pharaoh-to-be’s quarters. The wretch’s mother had called him. Psamtik was asleep in his mother’s arms. He slept naked and his mother looked fondly at his skinny, angular body. His shiny shaved head showed off many bumps and irregularities. He had had an erection in his sleep and she stroked it down gently. Matwa stood a while and finally cleared his throat, causing Psamtik to stir and grit his teeth, making an awful grinding sound. The woman looked up and smiled proudly as she slipped out of the bed.

“Matwa, how are the arrangements for his ascension progressing? I feel that the priesthood is not very enthusiastic about my son’s coronation, and I want to know that the army will be loyal.” She paced silently. “At least we have you, Matwa. I’m sure you can control the other priests.”
Matwa nodded, “Yes Your Grace, I will do my best. Every thing is going as planned.”

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sorcerers-secret-5/

{WARNING} Contains scenes of extreme violence that may be offensive to some readers. Fire—dreams of Fire—visions of Fire. Where do they come from? Aryazate doesn’t know why, but he fears the power secretly growing in him. Am I a demon, or a sorcerer? Kavada, the blacksmith, seems to be the only one he can trust, but even he doesn’t know the extent of Aryazate’s secrets. What would he say if he found out that the beautiful maiden Aryazate, is really a young man forced by circumstances to conceal this truth, which day by day becomes more evident? Just when he thinks Kavada is ready to hear the truth, Aryazate’s worst nightmares become reality. The Head-Mage Monushir accuses him of sorcery and has him imprisoned. What will this trial reveal? Is the truth so horrible that Aryazate will welcome torture and death by fire—by the same fire that haunts his dreams?

The Pharaoh's Useless Brains--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The priests moved the body of the Pharaoh to the royal embalmers. They had been prepared for this momentous event for a long time. Richly decorated canopic jars stood ready to receive the royal internal organs. The heart, being the seat of intelligence, would remain in the body. A large stone sarcophagus was set up in the room. This was not to be the final resting place, but the container that would hold the body while it cured and dried before mummification. It was full of natron over one layer of pure salt.

The priests were in attendance as the embalmers prepared the royal body and they began chanting the spells that were necessary for this stage. Taking a needle-thin, sharp knife, the senior embalmer made a deft jab at the navel of the body. He cut upwards, carefully avoiding the membrane separating the internal organs and the muscle. He made three more cuts until he could expose the cavity. Then taking another knife, he carefully pierced the membrane, and without ever injuring an organ, he began to cut away each one, then handed the organ over to an assistant who stood close by, holding an almost flat reed basket. Two men were holding the basket now as he skillfully cut the intestines out and began to scoop them into a large reed cone and then transferred the shimmering mass into their waiting basket. 

When this was done, the priests could see the Pharaoh’s backbone through his collapsed abdomen. One assistant held the mouth of the Pharaoh open as the master made several expert cuts that freed the esophagus and lungs. The lungs were removed by carefully cutting through the upper part of the abdomen and pulling them through the small incision. The cavity was washed now with palm wine and pounded spices. The assistant wiped the blood often from both the body and from the master’s hands and arms. The brain was removed through the nose using a long, hooked instrument. The master embalmer removed it expertly, although it was usually a messy procedure. It was placed in the reed basket with the rags, because it was not considered to be of any value to the Pharaoh in the afterworld.

Finally, the body was lifted carefully and placed in the sarcophagus. The abdominal cavity was filled with pure bruised myrrh, cassia, and other aromatic substances and then sewed up. The mouth was also filled with the mixture of materials, but it was skillfully pushed into place so that it bore a calm expression. Natron was poured over the body now, so that it could dry out in preparation for mummification. It was late in the night when they finally finished and the exhausted men set out for their quarters.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-sorcerer-and-the-shaman

Psamtik the Scarecrow--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Psamtik sat on the minor throne he had occupied before the death of his father, the Pharaoh. His scrawny shoulders shook with indignation as the priests explained to him for the tenth time that he had to wait for the ceremony before he could ascend the pharaoh’s throne. His face was thin and his nose hawkish. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his lips were so thin that his steward had to paint them to make them more visible.

Matwa watched Ankhare as he looked at the young man in disgust. Matwa could see that Psamtik’s claw-like hand was clutching the arm of his throne and he watched as a blue vein pulsed in the skinny neck under a gold neckband. One time Ankhare had told Matwa that he would never have such a poor specimen even clean pots for his troops, but this scarecrow who seemed to be certain that he was already a god, would be the Pharaoh. Matwa felt a sharp twinge of doubt and he looked away. He was going to have to accept it, but his mind continued to doubt. Could they, the priests, transform this weakling into a god? Didn’t they need better material to work with?

“It is now time, Prince Psamtik,” Matwa began, “for you to come to the room where your father, god of the underworld now...”

“No, no, no!” Psamtik interrupted, “I want to lie down now for my nap! I always do! Just because the old Pharaoh died does not mean that I have to change my schedule.” Psamtik’s eyes were red and his thin lips set in determination.

Matwa looked helplessly at Ankhare, as if for help, but the general was studying the ground and blushing furiously in shame. Kawaba, Psamtik’s mother, stood up and took the young man’s hand without further arguments and began to lead him from the room. He stood quite tall, as almost all of the Pharaoh’s children did, but as he left, they saw his backbone clearly. His shoulder blades protruded like the tucked in wings of a pelican.

Matwa knew what Kawaba was doing. He’d actually seen the disgusting thing before, since Psamtik was unashamed. Kawaba would lie down on the bed after settling her son in. She would lift her sash and when he opened his mouth wide to take in most of her sagging breast, she always winced. He would suck vigorously, although she was as dry as a mummy’s tit in late summer. He always did this when he felt insecure. Matwa groaned as he imagined the young pharaoh-to-be with his eyes shut—those eyes that looked like balls with a thin membrane stretched over them— while he made loud sucking noises. He looked away in disgust and began to study the cracks in the stone floor.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

Ha!! Do You See The Evil Glint in His Eye??

The Madness of King Cambyses

My plan was to make Cambyses mad, as I had his father, Cyrus the Great. It began with his obsession with Egypt, one of the Persian satrapies. 

“What do you think?” Cambyses asked Mihr, his advisor, cocking his head as he studied the map. Mihr opened his mouth, but Cambyses said, “Hmm, yes, I think so too.” He stroked his black beard contemplatively. Mihr did not move. The emperor cocked his head, as if listening and nodding his head slightly. 
Suddenly Cambyses turned and glared at him. Cambyses opened his eyes wide in a look of indescribable hatred and began to stalk towards Mihr. Cambyses began to reach for his dagger, but Mihr reached for his holy kusti string and shook it.

“Your Majesty, I... I have answered your summons!” Mihr said in a trembling voice. The emperor stopped. Mihr’s voice had ended the trance I had placed on him, hoping to have him kill that gnat of an advisor. 

His stance relaxed and he smiled at Mihr, gesturing him eagerly to follow him to the wall map of Egypt. He began to talk excitedly. 

“... my destiny! I can feel it calling to me! I want to go to Egypt to conquer that ancient land. Maybe I’ll even set up a capital there eventually. Mihr, I want to become a real pharaoh. I want you to get all the information that you can on their customs and religious practices.”

“Uh, yes, at once Your Majesty,” Mihr said. 

“First, however, I will begin to treat my magi more like the pharaoh treats his priests. They are landowners and nobles under Pharaoh. In exchange, they will think of me as god on earth.” Cambyses smiled slowly, his eyes taking on a far away look. “A god on earth,” he repeated, seeming to taste the syllables. He turned to Mihr, his eyes bright and intense with his passion. “Mihr, you must help me with this, I need that information! I need to become a god!”

Mihr bowed his head in reverence. “Oh King of Kings, I sense that there is already divinity in you.”

Cambyses’ eyes lit up in triumph. “You are a smart one, Mihr! No wonder my father had so much faith in you. Do you know that my mother was actually an Egyptian princess, the daughter of the great Pharaoh Ahmose, who rules Egypt? Pharaoh Ahmose has been ruling for forty years now. He is old, very old.”

Mihr made a sound of agreement, but the emperor had already turned and was studying the map of Egypt with rapt attention. 
When he returned the next day, I, Gaumata, smiled. I imagined what he was thinking as a guttural voice in a strange language greeted him. There was no one else in the room but Cambyses, who sat upon his throne as straight as the depictions of the pharaoh he had seen. He wore a short skirt of golden material and was holding two strange looking scepters.

The emperor just sat there, looking straight ahead and Mihr looked as though he didn’t know whether to stay or to leave. 
Finally Cambyses spoke. “Pharaoh Ahmose has just died. He came to me in a dream and told me to set out for Egypt to claim my throne.” 

Everyone had already heard about the death of the pharaoh. However, the emperor wanted people to believe that he had seen it in a vision. So Mihr made the appropriate expressions of joy and wonder.

http://www.extasybooks.com/pride-of-the-beast/

The Prince and the Girls--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Now Prince Cambyses was assured the position of King of Kings. I had made it possible. What a clever fellow I am! I was becoming quite settled in the palace, inside of his head. The only thing was that I needed somehow to control his sexual urges. It was disgusting the way his body seemed always alert for women. One day, I saw that my training was finally taking root.

A sound from the curtained doorway made Cambyses glance up briefly. Sarada, one of the youngest of Prince Cambyses’ wives came into the room where he sat, head down, as he inspected some of the precious items he had taken from his father’s quarters. She wanted to sit on his lap, as was her custom when she wanted to complain about one of her senior co-wives. 

Cambyses was annoyed, but he allowed her to climb onto his lap as he examined a small, filigreed locket. She was babbling on. Usually he found her as adorable as a newborn filly, but today, an odd rage seemed to well up within him. Her words grated on his senses and this startled him because usually he was able to tune her out completely until she was ready to go to bed with him.

“And so it I was just standing there and she said did I say you could wear my shift? And I said, well, why not, you once used the ring I left on the table that time, and she said well you stole that from me, don’t you remember? And so anyway then...”

Cambyses let his knee go limp and the girl began to slip to the floor. She grabbed him around the neck and tried to kiss him, but he shied away. Abruptly, she pulled back and wiped her lips on her sleeve.

“What is that smell? Maybe you were holding baby Xerxes on your lap? And maybe he pooped on you?”

Cambyses pushed her to the floor violently and glared at her as if she were an enemy. She ran crying from the room and Cambyses called his steward to fix him a hot bath. He just had to bathe and get the awful feel of that woman off of him. How could he bear those women—there were just so many of them swarming in his quarters, in the gardens, everywhere. “If anyone smells it’s them— the dirty evil creatures,” he growled. He stood swaying slightly as his eyes filmed over. He smiled sardonically and began to undress.

That, my friends, was my doing. My personality was beginning to rise in him.

Assassinate the Assassins--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The next day, the victorious assassin squad was near the city when a scout reached Prince Cambyses. “I see the traitors that I was to watch for, Oh Prince! They are still outside the city.”

“Prepare the troops. They are to die, each and every one of them. Do not bring me prisoners. I have been informed that they have plotted to take my life, but nobody knew why they left the city but my informant. They were conspiring with the old Babylonian priesthood to kill me before I could ascend the throne,” Cambyses watched the scout’s eyes widen. His own face was grave, but in his heart he was jubilant, for he knew now that his brother was dead. The plan was going wonderfully. He had Bardiya killed by the assassins, now he would have the troops kill the assassins. His dark secret would die with them.

http://www.devinedestinies.com/seeing-crimson/

My Wickedly Ingenious Plan--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Now it was time to really get to work. I made sure that by the morning, Prince Cambyses had totally forgotten about his foray to the garden Quiet Room. As planned, the princes and magi, as well as some other nobles close to the dead king, Cyrus the Great, assembled to witness the demolition of the Quiet Room. Many tears were shed as the building was beaten down until only a pile of limestone lay in its place. There was much to do. The magi would oversee the transition of the throne, not that Cambyses agreed with that, but it was the protocol. 

The biggest problem was that succession was far from a settled fact. Some of the magi thought that there should be a period of waiting and finally they won out. I had to make sure that Cambyses won the throne, for he was my vehicle.

Cambyses and his brother were expected to deal with the problems that were plaguing the empire with the king’s passing. Many of the upstart kingdoms saw this as a time to rebel. Prince Bardiya was set to go to the far off kingdom of Susa to the east. Cambyses knew that he should return to Babylon, where he had been ruling, if only to quell the rumors, but he did not think it was safe to leave the capital at such a time. And there was the problem of settling the question of succession for once and for all.

Prince Bardiya was setting out for Susa, where he would quell the rebellion before returning for the decision of the magi.  Bardiya didn’t even know if he wanted to rule at all. What I got from the mind of Cambyses was that all his brother wanted was to hunt all day. 

I made a plan and let it enter my victim’s mind. His rage and fear that he would lose the throne made him a more than willing participant. He called together a secret meeting with a few of his most adept assassins. They would follow Bardiya as he made his way to Susa, but while the royal party slept, they would attack and kill the prince. They were to hide his remains along with those of his party. Even horses would have to be killed and hidden in the vast series of craggy cliffs and ravines.

http://www.extasybooks.com/curse-of-two-spirit/

The Stolen "Gift"--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The night before the demolition, he decided to break in. I floated above him reading his thoughts as he moved quietly in the dark. Prince Cambyses was stealthy in the darkness of the royal gardens. He knew the area quite well, having killed many imaginary foes in the winding, flowery paths as a youth. It was very dark, providing the cover he would need. So far, he had only met one guard, for most of them were posted on the outside of the gardens and grounds. His father, Cyrus, never wanted them in his private area. He slunk toward the Quiet Room with no guilt in his heart at all. He had never loved his father. Hell, he rarely ever spoke to him. Instead of seeking advice from his true son, the old coot would rather go to the magi. Now he would see what riches were stored there, for he thought it was a thing of greed that his father wanted them to bury the jewels along with himself. He had found the key after searching through his father’s personal things.

The door opened easily and he slipped in. He lit the small candle that he had in his pocket. The room had no windows, but the roof of it was open in places, making it smell fresh. The twinkling stars above were enchanting. He could see why his father had loved this place so. He stopped his musings and got to work. He would check methodically and find whatever was in here before it was destroyed. Nobody would ever know. Looking around, he found that it was a spartan place, aside from its natural beauty. There were rare flowering bushes inside the walls. They were able to get sun from the open roof and yet they were protected from the winds by the walls. He checked under and around these bushes. The floor was simply earth except for the marble blocks used in paths. These all seemed to be undisturbed and grass grew between them. He decided that no recent digging had taken place.

He saw that there was a stone throne in a dark corner, but little else. It must be the place of the wealth, he thought, grunting with impatience. He ran over and sure enough, the throne had a lid on it—the perfect hiding place for the jewels. He moved the heavy stone cover and reached in, but could feel nothing. Laying his chest on the throne seat, he reached as far down as he could, thrusting his hand in as deeply as it would extend. There was something soft and mushy at the bottom of that hole. He quickly pulled out his hand and gagged as he held it stiffly in front of him. He dared not shake it, but began to wipe it on the stone floor. The smell seemed to have hands that caressed his face, although he struggled against it. It was thick and he felt it work its way up his nostrils. He felt it pry his lips apart and slip past the rows of clenched teeth. His lungs were full now, as if the stench were a solid thing.

“It won’t ever go away,” he muttered in panic. He ran out of the room and stuck his hand into a nearby pool. He began to wash and wash, but the substance was viscous and it lingered, slimy against his skin. The smell lingered, too. He pulled up a clump of grass and used the roots and dirt to scrub at his hand, but it slid back and forth in the slime. He scuttled toward his apartments and washed again, attempting to rub off the slippery sludge that clung to it. Finally, in desperation, he doused himself with strong perfumes and then he changed out of his sweaty clothes and went to bed.

Thus, I had found the perfect opportunity to enter Cambyses’s mind. It was so simple in that one moment of shock. The fear of the king’s curse helped instill terror into the heart of the prince. From now on it would be simple. I made a place for myself in the mind of the prince and prepared for the next step in my plan. “It was just too easy,” I said aloud as I rubbed my hands together in an ecstasy that threatened to boil over.

http://www.extasybooks.com/la-bruja-2/

The Tale of Two Princes--The Sorcerer Gaumata

Oh bother! I will have to explain a bit about the political situation in Persia at the time, which was about 530 BCE as you calculate time. The King of Kings, Cyrus the Great, was dead. He had two sons, Cambyses and Bardiya. It seemed no clear thing which prince would rule, so the magi were to decide. I needed to work on this, for the next king would be my vessel. 

Having found what I thought was a competent helper I left my body and examined them in turn. I saw that Bardiya was a guileless simpleton. He actually had very little ambition for the throne, but it seemed that he was the favorite of the magi. I think it was because they believed they could control him. Now, for me to be successful in possessing someone, I must discover that person’s greatest fear, or in some cases, guilt.

Cambyses was ambitious and ruthless. I decided to make him the next king. I would accomplish this by having him murder his own brother. First I had to get into his head. If you recall, Cyrus the Great had a splendid building in the middle of his great garden. It was called the Quiet Room. As far as anyone else knew, it was a place of meditation. We all know, however, that he used this room to relieve himself of the human waste products he never let anybody know he had.

I explained previously that Cyrus took great pride in being beyond mortal—a god on earth. A Greek visitor noted that the king was indeed a god, for he had no bodily needs. This Quiet Room had been prepared for the king by his royal builder, who was the only one who knew of its function, until Cyrus had him killed. Now after the death of Cyrus, his ghost was anxious. He appeared to Mihr, his advisor, and told him that the room must be demolished totally, without anyone ever entering it. He made these wishes known to the court.

Prince Bardiya agreed immediately, but Cambyses, thinking that it was the place of hoarded treasure, wanted to take first whatever he found there. The magi prevailed, and Cambyses was sorely disappointed and angry. He decided to raid the place secretly.

http://www.extasybooks.com/burned-dreams-8/

So Little Time, So Many Enemies to Kill!! The Sorcerer Gaumata

I was happy now with both Rustem and Cyrus the Great dead. I had punished them for deforming my lovely body. But I was not completely satisfied. It was enough to make me rub my hands together in a kind of ecstasy. It had all gone so well. Very well, except for the fact that his original goal had not been accomplished. But they were all dead now. The King of Kings, Cyrus the Great, lay in a tomb rotting. The sorcerers Rustem and his twice-cursed sorceress wife Anahita were nothing but old shits of the buzzards that had consumed their flesh.

There was much to do yet. The next on my list was whoever would succeed Cyrus and become the next King of Kings. That would be relatively easy, but a few things stood in my way. Two of them were the children of Rustem and Anahita. I spat in disgust. I had to deal with them. And it wasn’t easy. Possessing someone was something I reveled in, but it wasn’t like I could possess two people at once. With so much work to do, I’d have to do some head hopping. It might make me easier to catch, though.

Well, for now, I would find a very good place to stash my body while I visited—and I would have to find a more trustworthy servant than the one I had just killed. That wretch! He had done a bad job of caring for my body. It smelled, and the limbs had become stiff. Although he left my fingernails grow absurdly long, he had allowed a mouse to chew on my toenails, which were chewed bloody. That hurt like hell even now. Do you still feel sorry for him? Do you still think I was too harsh? Perhaps you would do the same, so do not be so judgmental. 

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-eternal-fox-sorcerer/

Ha Ha!!! I Have Secured a New Servant!! Can You Guess That it is a Werewolf?

Oh ingenious! What a clever disguise. This creature is a werewolf by the name of "RedWolf." It will serve me and nobody will be able to guess what it is. Beware! It is a babe-magnet, but above all, it will never attract attention for what it really is. I can send it to my enemies. It will mewl by the door like a lost puppy, but then it will strike. Ha! I am a genius! 

Dead at Last

Cyrus the Great knew that he was a great warrior even at his advancing age. He hated to have the killing of a woman on his list of accomplishments. He felt compassion, but then suddenly rage. The thing in his head (me)—the thing that kept trying to tell him what to do and what to feel—he felt helpless to stop the power that rushed into his muscles now. He felt as strong as a young man, and he had to kill the bitch that dared to approach him swinging her little club. She was a disgusting woman, but he would deal with her now, although her filth would be polluting.

Suddenly she charged at him and they were so close that Cyrus could see the small bubbles in her saliva as she cried out. He was too close now to swing his sword. The woman was upon him in an instant, stabbing at his gut with a short sword. Cyrus was himself again suddenly. The pain was sudden and he saw a white streak before his eyes. He was afraid now. It would happen and he could do nothing to stop it. All of a sudden, he felt himself lose control of his bowels. All the treasures that they had been hoarding during this wretched trip were suddenly let loose and he could feel it in his pants. So this was how it would be, he thought miserably. 

I almost regretted leaving him, but I knew I had to push out of his mind before death took him. I did not wish to die with him, which is what would have happened. Now I tarried not. I rushed to the place where my body had hid for so long. At my arrival, my servant, the one who had been caring for my body, jumped back in alarm. I opened red-rimmed eyes and stared at him in hatred, for he knew my secrets. He had bathed my naked body for all these years. I looked around to see the miserable place and I was disgusted. He had become sloppy. My body smelled and my hair was matted. Even my fingernails were long and curling—yellowed with age.

With one hand, I grabbed his face and he screamed. I used those horny, yellow nails to gouge slices into his cheeks. Then dragging him toward my face even as he struggled, I bit his neck in a frenzy and drank of his hot blood, for my body was starved and my soul, furious.

http://www.extasybooks.com/the-sicilian-undead/

Cyrus the Great Meets the Queen of the Massagetae--The Sorcerer Gaumata

The barbarians were so close that it surprised Cyrus, who was now only thirty feet from his tent and already swinging his finely crafted sword at the heads of the wild-looking people. In his mind, he pictured the relief he would have carved into the mountain. He would have them portray him as a god-like hero borne aloft a Simurg bird with the sun symbol beneath him. Rows and rows of the vanquished barbarians would be pictured with their hands tied, being led to pay their homage to him. He would have to make sure that their costumes were depicted accurately. The Scythians and their pointed hats, the Massagetae with their calf-length robes, and those strange cloaks on the Scythian warriors! What were they made from? There were those among them with fierce masks on their faces. They were painted in eerie earth tones, but the impact was fantastic. As he mused, he continued to fight confidently, seeing that he was flanked by his able royal bodyguards. Not that he was afraid to fight like any other soldier, but his importance was naturally a consideration. His arm was beginning to ache.

Soon he was face-to-face with Queen Apuyani. You may be surprised to hear that a king, what to speak of a queen, would be fighting in a battle. Yes, in those days, kings were required to fight alongside the troops. If a queen wished to hold onto power, she too had to fight.

Many people suddenly stopped and the din of the melee seemed to dim around that spot. Cyrus was sure this woman was the queen, because of her regal bearing. He felt guilt now. She had appealed to him and assured him that her country was obedient to the throne, yet he had had killed her entire army, including her son. His face softened with a look of regret as Queen Apuyani approached, teeth bared in a mask of rage.

I knew it was time to take over before he stepped away from the fight.  The king’s eyes fogged over and he appeared to become furious. Swinging his sword as if imbued with demonic power, he dashed at the queen. His heavy sword hit her club with such intensity that she almost dropped it. The queen’s charger backed up and then flung himself forward. This sudden movement caught Cyrus off guard. The queen pulled a half-sword from its scabbard as they closed in.

http://www.extasybooks.com/sorcerer-gaumata-king-of-kings/

Der Werwolf--A New Book by KB Forrest

Dark forest full of secrets call to her ancient blood. Can lovely Usha resist their seductive allure?

Professor Usha Baron embarks on sabbatical with hope, even after almost losing her tenure battle. Returning to her ancestral village deep in Germany’s Black Forest, she will finally continue the work her disgraced father had begun. He’d been laughed out of academia because of his firm belief in the existence of werewolves. Usha knew her father well. He was a peerless scientist, not the foolish madman his colleagues claimed he was. His work proved that there was a scientific explanation for this rare disorder, which he claimed ran even in his family line. Usha is determined to find rational answers, but dark castles and deep forests trigger a call in her ancient blood that cannot be explained by reason.

http://www.extasybooks.com/der-werwolf/