Previously published as part of the Immortal Bad Boys anthology. The Midnight Court story is now available individually in a re-edited author's cut.
A creature of the night, Christopher Dante is as cynical as he is handsome, and as lustful as any man. He's accepted an invitation to Lord Rothchilde's infamous Midnight Court, a secretive gathering of debauchery and greed. There resides temptation. He has no defenses against the enchanting, innocent, unearthly beauty of Lord Rothchilde's future bride, but his jealous former lover, Elizabeth Rothchilde, will do anything to keep Dante safe from a fate he cannot foresee.
In this Midnight Court, both Dante and Elizabeth will have to risk their hearts in order to survive...
"Christopher Dante, the vampire hero of Linda Thomas-Sundstrom's "Midnight Court," finds himself consumed by passion for the new consort of Lord Rothchilde. He schemes with and confides in Rothchilde's sister Elizabeth, who might be able to get him close to his obsession. There is, however, something she wants in return. A delectable story."
Romantic Times Book Club:
4 Stars! "Thomas-Sundstrom's provocative romance will definitely elevate readers' blood pressure."
ParaNormal Romance Reviews:
"This vampire romance is erotic, enticing, and enthralling . . . Linda Thomas-Sundstrom's Midnight Court is spellbinding."
The Road To Romance:
"Linda Thomas-Sundstrom's Midnight Court adds an elegance to this anthology. The characters and the setting are described wonderfully and the mix of history rounds out this anthology splendidly. These characters draw a reader in and hold them captive. This was my first time reading this authors work. I will be looking for more!"
CataRomance:
"Fantastic. Fans of vampire tales will eat up... Steamy encounters... Dark sexual overtones . . . An incredible vampire read."
Sizzling Romance Reviews:
"What an intriguing story! Thomas-Sundstrom's Midnight Court is a story of secrets, darkness, passion, danger, and intrigue. Not one to be missed!"
Read an Excerpt
Elizabeth's cry was inward, silent, and stuck in her throat. Ecstacy? Yes, she thought fleetingly, and then the sensation was replaced by a stab of pain that seared her flesh and scalded her blood to the point of boiling.
Her skin and stomach were alive with fire. Fire so vivid as to be insufferable. Was she dying? Was this what the shadow of death felt like?
Her body seized, muscles rigid with the faintest trace of fear, and then the mouth on her neck tugged harder still, sucking, drawing the fire upward through her arms and shoulders. Her blood rushed to meet his demands.
Dante's demands.
Blackness swallowed Elizabeth soon after shadows leaned in. Even the flicker of the candle could not hide what was taking place: Dante's dark head against her cheek, Dante's teeth embedded into her flesh. And yet she seemed somehow removed from these things, curiously distanced from the action she had invited.
Oh yes, she had invited it. Him. This. She had asked for Dante to show himself, and now she had gone beyond the realms of couplings and torrid sexual assignations. She had wanted to know. She had had to know. So why now fight what she had gathered to her? Surely it was too late to struggle? Much too late to protest? The fire had reached her throat. Everything below was lost to feeling, to sensation, having been forsaken in the name of love. Sense had been abandoned for this one man, for this particular creature.
Christopher Dante.
Should she give in? Elizabeth considered this. The thought fled. She brought it back again. And then feeling suddenly reappeared, as though it had not truly been distanced for good.
A throb accompanied the drawing of her life's blood. Faintly it came on, the sensation similar to catching and holding a man's eyes for the first time after secretly lusting for him. A sensation exchangeable for the impact of lips touching for the first time.
Flames rushed downward through her chest, abdomen, thighs, and over her heated skin, the fire now coursing, singing, insistent. Down the heat went, toward the site of her sexual pleasures, toward the door whose key she had distributed to one man only. To a man who was not merely a man.
Could there possibly be any blood left to engorge the organs driving her desire? Yes. She felt it now. God, how she felt it. Waves of heat burst, then retreated, flaring white hot, darting in and out of the space between her thighs. God. Oh, God.
What was he doing?
She shook, moved, undulated. Still, she had no control over her arms. Her back arched with an audible crack. Her legs opened. Only then did she notice that Dante's mouth had left her neck, and that Dante's eyes — his great dark eyes — were peering into her own.
She went into those eyes, felt herself drowning, slipping.
"Elizabeth," Dante whispered.
As if he had control over her very consciousness, Elizabeth's attention returned to his face. Dante's features filled in where only paleness had reigned. Black eyebrows arched severely over his luminous eyes, eyes as bottomless as her greed for him had been. His full lips opened, revealing the dagger-like sharpness of his teeth. But there was something else . . .