Meet Clara Luz from Anna del Mar’s To the Edge
First Chapter Reveal
I’m thrilled to introduce my newest release, To
the Edge, to all of you readers of erotic romance who
visit this awesome blog. To the Edge is the story of Noah Blake and Clara Luz, a
couple who stole my heart and imagination in this second chance love story. In
a nutshell: To learn about kink, Clara
had to learn the ropes. Yet she never expected to be so compromised she'd need
rescuing. And by him. Noah Blake. The first man she'd ever loved. The former
navy SEAL who'd broken her heart.
You all may remember
that I write stories about strong heroines struggling to find their place in
the world and the brave, sexy, kickass heroes who will fight to protect them
with all they’ve got. Some of my stories are romantic suspense, like The Asset and The Stranger. Some are erotic romances, like At the Brink. If you
liked At the Brink, you will love To the Edge. Honestly? It is the sexiest, kinkiest,
erotic romance I’ve written to date. Today, I’m delighted to share the complete
first chapter of To the Edge and
introduce you to Clara Luz, who is caught in a very compromising position from
the get go.
So, as always,
proceed at your own discretion and above all…enjoy.
AdM
***
Chapter One
Clara
My first attempt at submission went
from failure to disaster in a whiff. An odd scent teased my nose and rattled my
nerves. A prickle of uneasiness crept up my spine. I craned my neck, trying to
figure out where the smell was coming from, but I couldn’t see much beyond the
narrow slits of my sequined velvet mask.
Note to blog: velvet masks may shield, tease
and entice, but visibility sucks.
I heard a small sound, a swish maybe?
It came from my right somewhere, from the hallway that led to the powder room.
I tried twisting my body around in the cage, but I could barely move. My arms
were fastened above my head and my ankles were strapped to the bars near the
floor. I sniffed the air again. The smell seemed fainter. Maybe it was my
imagination, trying to shock some common sense into me and put an end to
today’s little experiment.
I was alone in the old house. My
companion had left twenty minutes ago, to find himself some coffee in town,
he’d said. He’d left me cuffed in the cage so that I could reflect on my
irreverent conduct. Right. Good luck with that, buddy. The truth was that he
probably needed the caffeine boost in order to tackle a handful like me.
I let out a little groan. Sure, this
was crazy, no two ways about it. Reckless my mother would say, risky and not
exactly consistent with my usually sane behavior. But honestly? I had
suppressed my life for others’ sake long enough.
But this? A seditious little voice
nagged in the back of my mind. I tried to quiet it down, but maybe, just maybe,
I’d pushed the edge a little too hard on this one. God, the things I did in the
name of freedom.
The tight leather corset dug into my
ribs. My arms ached. My legs were tired and my feet were beginning to cramp in
the impossibly high heels.
Note to blog: kink garb isn’t exactly comfy.
Good God. I was actually going through
with this. Me. Clara Luz. Attempting something so far out of my comfort zone,
not to mention my family’s much-touted moral rectitude. I slumped in my bonds.
Was I really so freaking desperate?
A week and a half ago, Annette
Collins, the legendary editor of RelevantSex.com, had presented me with a
unique proposition. Annette had been my advisor in grad school and as such, the
only person who knew about my online adventures. From the beginning, she’d
followed sextattle.com, the sex and romance blog I published—anonymously, of
course.
It wasn’t as if I was particularly
versed or gifted in these oh so very fascinating subjects. On the contrary. My
relationship IQ measured pretty low on the success scale. But the blog wasn’t
so much an advice column as it was a forum. Discussion questions came in
through an unfiltered inbox, I posted them under different categories and
people talked about them. I was good at research, so I mostly shared facts and
links to helpful resources. I followed the old adage: those who can’t do,
teach. Or, in my case, share online.
Initially, the blog had been an
experiment, a grad school project that went unexpectedly viral. But after
graduation, the blog transformed into a labor of love, a means to connect with
people and the only possible way in which I could pursue my own journey,
separate from that of my illustrious mother. These days the blog had a very
respectable reach, solid advertising revenues and an expanding market that had
caught Annette’s eye. She’d made me an excellent offer to merge my blog with
RelevantSex.com.
The catch?
Annette wanted a trial run, a main feature
to woo the editorial board and test my range, a fresh, raw take on the topic of
sex and submission, a personal account of my first exploration of kink to
tantalize her readers.
“It’s a fascinating subject,” she’d
said during our meeting at LeMond’s Cafe in Adams Morgan. “Look at the movies.
Look at the novels. The public is fascinated by kink, domination and
submission. Your readers will be too. An exploration is totally relevant.”
“Then why don’t you assign someone
who’s already on staff at RelevantSex.com?” I didn’t have any wisdom to share
on the topic, zero, zip, nada. “Or better yet, why don’t you tackle it?”
“Because I might be biased on the
subject.” She fastened her glimmering green eyes on my face. “Whereas you, my
dear, are sure to bring a fresh perspective to our readers.”
Her naughty smile activated my Spidey
senses and ignited my blush. I wasn’t a prude by any means, but kink? Yep, I’d
bring a fresh perspective for sure. As to Annette, any lingering questions I
may have had about the extent of her personal kink exposure were fully answered
when she plunked down a long, comprehensive list of potential interview sources
and references on the table.
Holy crap. I had a mental image of the
sober pearl-decked Annette, dressed in black leather, whip in hand, red curls
cascading down her back. I forced my mouth to close.
Annette’s project was intriguing but,
given my leadership role at the Luz Foundation and my mother’s high profile, it
was also dangerous to me, personally and professionally. I tried to err on the
side of caution. “I might not be the right person for this one.”
“Nonsense.” She reached over the table
and, after tucking a strand of my bangs behind my ear, trailed her fingers down
my chin. “You are perfect.”
I had to shake off the shock. Had
Annette just made a pass at me? No way. My overactive imagination was busy at
work, again. Annette was a consummate professional and she’d been a mentor to
me for many years. She was just trying to reassure me, something I needed,
because I was torn. My brain twirled like a coin in the air, and I had no clue
which one of my faces would come up at landing: dutiful Clara or her surly,
rebellious twin?
“Come on, Clara.” Annette clasped her
hands together and grinned. “Say yes. Please?”
Something about the idea of exploring
sex’s kinky underworld had me shivering inside. I was curious and Annette was
right. Her readers would eat it up. My readers would like it too. Most
importantly, Annette’s proposal offered me an opportunity to reach the one thing
I’d spent my entire adult life trying to achieve: freedom. The possibility of
doing what I loved on my own terms and the chance to finally cut the ties that
bound me to the family trust.
I couldn’t say no to freedom. I
couldn’t say no to Annette or to the sense of excitement growing in me. I took
a deep breath and met Annette’s emerald stare. She gave me an encouraging nod.
What the heck. I’d been wavering on the edge of this cliff for a while, but on
that hot and humid September day, I jumped.
“I’ll do it.”
Now, almost a week and a half later,
as I teetered on the balls of my feet, nearly hanging from the cuffs, the irony
wasn’t lost on me. To cut the old ties, I’d had to accept some very real bonds.
In my search for freedom, I’d stepped into a cage.
I let out a nervous giggle. It echoed
in the empty house. Some would think I was exaggerating the scope of my
predicament. They didn’t know my mother. Senator Margaret Luz had made sure to
cut off all my avenues of escape as I grew up. After I finished grad school,
nobody in DC would give me a job without her express consent. Instead of
working for myself as I’d planned, she’d strong-armed me to work for her
charity foundation.
As her only offspring, I was more of a
prop than a person. Beyond birthing me, she’d designed me, selected the best
genetic material she could buy from an impressive catalogue of sperm donors in
order to create the perfect daughter. Sure, I owed her my existence, but my
chances of meeting her high expectations had been zero from the start.
Of course, she didn’t know about my
blog. She’d kill me if she did. She’d kill the blog too, and bury it forever.
But Annette had gone where no one else had dared and offered me a unique
opportunity. If this worked, it would be well worth the effort. I straightened
my back. I wasn’t a Luz for nothing. I’d make it work.
I tested the cuffs and puffed. Where
the hell was Mark Walker? My test Dom for the day was taking his sweet time
getting his damn coffee. I gritted my teeth and groaned. Patience had never
been my strong suit. Once I made my decision and committed to the venture, I’d
considered the risks and, in true Luz fashion, planned and obsessed over every
step.
I wasn’t an idiot, so I’d started by
vetting Mark Walker thoroughly. Even though he’d come highly recommended by
Annette, I’d commissioned a background investigation from one of Washington’s
premier security firms. Yep, that was me, all right, ever the overachiever.
Mark passed with flying colors, a model citizen in every way, requirement
number one. A little adventure was exciting, but a sadist or a serial killer
had no place in my risk assessment matrix.
To protect myself and my name, I’d
also had Mark sign RelevantSex.com’s ironclad confidentiality agreement. Then
I’d scheduled a preliminary meeting to make sure we were both on the same page.
Our deal was kink 101, a limited intro to the BD part of BDSM, no intercourse
or pain. Safety first.
I’d taken equal care when selecting
the location for this meeting. The house where we used to summer when I was
young was located smack in the middle of Avalon, an island in the Chesapeake
Bay. The property was surrounded by a wildlife refuge on all sides. I’d
inherited the Victorian beauty from my grandfather, who’d been senator before
my mother.
This time around, I recognized the
smell. Smoke. My heart tripped. Alarm crawled up my spine like a bunch of daddy
longlegs. I tugged on the cuffs. They clanged on the bars, but they didn’t
give. I craned my neck and, peering through the mask’s narrow slits, caught a
glimpse of white wisps trickling from the hallway into the living room.
Oh my God. Smoke. A fire? No way. The
house hadn’t been used in years. Mark and I were the only ones here and we’d
done nothing that could possibly start a fire. Right?
Wrong.
I had a memory of Mark Walker as he
stepped out of the bathroom holding the lit candle he’d used to introduce me to
a little wax-on-ass play earlier today. Lit candle. Matches. Wicker
wastebasket.
Holy shit.
My belly turned to ice. The key. Where
the heck had Mark put the cuffs’ key? In his front shirt pocket, I remembered
him teasing me with the act. Crap. I tugged on the cuffs. The cage rattled, my
wrists smarted and yet the cuffs held. Where on earth was Mark Walker when you
needed him?
I looked around the room, growing more
alarmed by the moment. The wrist cuffs wouldn’t budge, but maybe if I freed my
feet I could lift my knees and use my weight to bust the chain that connected
the cuffs. I kicked off my right shoe, pointed my toes and contorted my foot,
choking down gulps of panic. This was going to take some doing.
A fire. A freaking fire. I railed at a
God who amused himself with stuff like this. Keep your head. Use your wits. Don’t panic. It would’ve been the
Luz motto, if we’d had one of those. I ignored the terror squeezing my throat
and kept working on the ankle strap. Success. My right foot came free. I
started to work on the left strap right away. If I could only do the same with
my wrists...
The sound of crackling echoed from the
hallway, a low, husky growl. Holy Mary. Maybe I was having a nightmare. I
really wanted to pinch myself awake. But there was the small problem of the
cuffs. I was not going to die today.
My left foot came free. Hallelujah. I
didn’t waste any time. I flexed my legs, pulled on the cuffs and, curling my
knees into my stomach, added my weight. The chain didn’t break. I kept at it,
but I needed plan B. I tried screaming for help, but the gag in my mouth
muffled my cries and the screech that pierced my ears sounded more like a
yowling she-cat.
Note to blog: gags are a pain in the ass.
And who the hell was going to hear me
anyway? Avalon’s population amounted to 727 souls who lived mostly on the bay,
ten miles down the gravel road. The cabin was surrounded by the Luz wildlife
refuge, my grandfather’s doing. I was in so much trouble.
What would my mother say if they found
me out here, burned to a crisp, shackled in a cage? Her embarrassment, not to
mention her rage, would probably far exceed her grief. The newspapers. Social
media. The scandal. I wiped the image from my mind and concentrated on the
cuffs. I wasn’t going to burn, wasn’t willing to die, not yet, not this way.
A voice caught my attention. A call
came from the outside. A call? I squealed back in reply. Within moments, the
back doors exploded off the hinges. A man broke through, angled forward like a
linebacker, tall and broad-shouldered. His run came to an abrupt halt in the
middle of the living room. He took in the scene and quickly assessed the
situation like a man who was used to danger.
The look of competence in his stare
restored my hope for a longer life. Thank you, God! I would’ve whooped with
elation if I could. His eyes widened with surprise when he registered the
cage—and probably my attire—but he didn’t hesitate as he rushed over.
“Hang on,” he said as he unlatched the
cage’s door. “What the hell is going on?”
I craned my neck to follow his
progress, mumbling frantic gibberish through the gag.
Something about him was
familiar, the wide cheekbones, the straight angle at the jaw, the eyes, black,
soulful and deep. My heart jerked to a sudden stop. I did a double take. No
way.
It couldn’t be. I stole another look at him. My elation turned to shock.
Was I losing my mind? I rose on my toes, lifted my face to the heels of my
hands and managed to knuckle my eyes. Maybe I was delusional. Maybe he was a
ghost. Maybe I was suffering from oxygen deprivation, even though the smoke
didn’t look nearly that bad. I blinked several times to clear my vision. It
couldn’t be, shouldn’t be, and yet, when I looked again, there he was, the same
man, the face I remembered so well.
A rush of blood heated my face. No.
Oh, no. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to find him here, now. Of all
the people in the universe, he would’ve been the last I wanted to see me in my
current state. How could this be?
His appearance weakened my knees and
demolished my fortitude. My rescuer, the one person who’d heard my cries and
who could potentially get me out, was also the same man who’d almost destroyed
me once. He might not be able to recognize me yet, but I sure recognized him.
The last time I’d seen him was right here, in this house, an hour before he
broke my heart. It was him. The first man I ever loved.
Noah Blake.
To the Edge
A Heroes at the Brink Novel
Anna del Mar
Genre: Erotic Romance
Publisher: Carina Press
Date of Publication: November 14th, 2016
ISBN: 9781459294387
Number of pages: 297 pages approx.
Word Count: 104,000
Cover Artist: Carina Press
Book Description:
To learn about kink, she had to learn the ropes. Yet she never expected to be so compromised she'd need rescuing. And by him. The first man she'd ever loved. The former navy SEAL who'd broken her heart.
Clara's gone wild.
Naked. Cuffed. Caged. Is this the sweet senator’s daughter I left behind?
I didn't know it was her when I rushed into that room filled with flames, but I'll never let her go again.
She’s proposed a unique way to thank me. It could bring us both to the edge of ecstasy—or to the point of no return.
Clara wants to submit. To me. Totally. Damn any limits. The very thought of it has brought me back from the dead.
But a stranger is watching from the shadows. He’s made us his fantasy. And he plays rougher than I do. Where he’s taking us now is somewhere so dark, and so dangerous, that this time it could be inescapable.
About the Author:
Amazon bestselling author Anna del Mar writes hot, smart romances that soothe the soul, challenge the mind, and satisfy the heart. Her stories are about strong heroines struggling to find their place in the world and the brave, sexy, kickass, military heroes who defy their limits to protect the women they love. She’s the author of The Asset, The Stranger, At the Brink and her newest erotic romance, To the Edge. Anna enjoys traveling, hiking, skiing, and the sea. Writing is her addiction, her drug of choice, and what she wants to do all the time. The extraordinary men and women she met during her years as a Navy wife inspire the fabulous heroes and heroines at the center of her stories. When she stays put—which doesn’t happen very often—she lives in Florida with her indulgent husband and two very opinionated cats.
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