Historical Passion Scavenger Hunt

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Bio:

After living a checkered past, and despite an avowed disinterest in domesticity, multi-published erotic romance author Anya Richards settled in Ontario, Canada, with husband, kids, an adorable pup and a cat that plots world domination, one food bowl at a time. Her slightly darker alter-ego, Anya Delvay, emerges occasionally to write erotica.

Interested in all things historical and hysterical, Anya describes herself as intensely curious, (although the word ‘nosy’ has been bandied about) and a life-long people-watcher. Using what she’s discovered about people, places and various weird and wonderful things, Anya has written contemporary, historical and paranormal/fantasy romance novels, novellas and short stories for Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Cleis Press and Spice Briefs.

To find out more, please drop by Anya’s website at www.anyarichards.com, follow her on Twitter or like her on Facebook.Giveaway: One (1) full set of ebooks from this tour Awaken Fantasy/fairytale inspired erotic romance Samhain Amazon US B&N Kobo Awaken72smBlurb: An angry fairy queen trapped his body. A woman’s love could imprison his heart.

Prince Ryllio once lived so charmed a life, even he began to believe nothing bad could touch him. Then a moment’s indiscretion brought Queen Mab’s wrath raining down, encasing him in stone.

Hundreds of years later, he is losing hope that anyone will find him, much less counter the spell. Until a beautiful young woman wanders into his hidden glade to privately discover the pleasures of her own body. Her sensual innocence reignites his acute longing for freedom.
Lured into the old forest by an irresistible impulse, Myrina finds intimate communion with Ryllio’s imprisoned spirit. His whispered guidance weaves an erotic spell, rousing her to undreamed heights of ecstasy.
The intertwining of their minds comes at a devastating price. As each encounter intensifies, Myrina falls in love with a man she can never touch. And Ryllio realizes he must give up the last vestiges of his humanity—or condemn her to a life devoid of a flesh-and-blood lover…

Living this mostly timeless existence had been the norm, until today.

Now, desperation forced the counting not of minutes but of seconds since the black-haired nymph had left the glade.

She had entered as though in a dream—a little smile tipping the edges of her full pink lips, the motion of her hands languid and graceful as she doffed her cloak. Beneath a small white cap, edged with lace, lay coils of midnight-dark hair, small tendrils escaping in ringlets to play around her face. Heavy-lidded eyes of sparkling blue seemed to look right at him, and a blush of rosy colour stained from throat to softly rounded cheeks.

Ryllio had felt her presence, her beauty, like the pull of a rope anchored to his soul. As she stopped before where he knelt, and reached to unbutton her jacket, the pounding echo of his heart shook his stony prison, and rushed in his ears.

The need to touch her, learn who she was, was so overwhelming he forgot the spell holding him in place—tried to reach for her although it were impossible. Straining, he imagined touching her face, the sensation of her peachy skin beneath his fingers. When she arched her face skyward, raising her hands to her cheeks, her neck, Ryllio knew she could hear his thoughts, his wishes, although he knew not how.

Oh, the joy of it! The desire! Watching the innocent exploration, her sweet face tight and flushed with need, and knowing she could sense all he desired made Ryllio feel alive, truly human for the first time since his punishment began.

Her small breasts were sensitive. It was obvious from the way simply touching them excited her, took her close to the apex of passion. His yearning to enhance her pleasure led him further and further, until he imagined her naked beneath him, thighs open, revealing her most secret place to his avid gaze. Shuddering, her little hand crept beneath her skirts and he pictured himself lifting her hips, covering her delicious wet flesh with his mouth.

The sound of her release was sweet torture—the sight of her falling back, writhing among the flowers, crying out again and again, brought him to a pitch of need never felt before.

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Question: What color are the eyes of the woman who entered the glade?

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