1. Good evening. Can you tell our readers a little about yourself?
I’m Traian, the third son of Adnan Komar. Everyone I call friend knows me as Tray. I have three brothers. Ivan, the oldest, is on a power-trip due to his high-ranking designation in our culture. Keep a wide-berth around him, he bites. You may have met Lucas. Recently, he got his head out of his ass and patched things up with his mate, Katiya. That leaves Mikhail, my closest brother and partner in crime. Right now, I’m not mated. I doubt I ever will be. Out of all the younglings my parents had, I’m the only who lucked out, looking like my grandfather. We both have long blonde hair and green eyes. I live in a cushy penthouse in the center of Westwood, Los Angeles. I’m a techno-wizard, and have a network the good ole Feds would drool over. I have a special talent called a Híbe. With this ability, I am able to manipulate nerve endings for either pain or pleasure. It’s handy in the torture department, too. If you were to ask my sister, Anna, what is unique about me, she’d say I’m the scary one in the family. I don’t sharpen my fangs or have claws, but I do have a temper and I’m not above eliminating threats. Mikhail deals with the bodies.
2. What do you find most challenging about being a vampire?
I don’t consider myself a vampire. We use blood to elongate our lives, keep healthy, and for procreating with our mates. Life would suck, yes, pun intended, if I had to skip out on eating delectable foods, forgo enjoying a cold brewskie, and sleep in a casket. The most challenging thing about being Kan Asma is knowing I can’t choose my own mate. I must wait for the Elders to find me a female, and keep my fingers crossed she won’t select me. It’s total crap. Especially if the woman you want is human and the Council won’t let you have her. Freaking bullshit, I say.
3. Do you find that people have a hard time accepting you, just because you’re a vampire?
We are a tight-knit community and keep our secrets to ourselves. No one in America even has an inkling about our existence. If they did, they’d be, well, dead. However, some thirty years ago, we were found out by a government bent on learning all about us. They didn’t approach it kindly. Many of our people died, while others are still being held as lab rats. Those of us who are refugees keep our lips locked about our kind. We might be strong and dangerous but there is strength in numbers. Being overrun at our most vulnerable time, in daylight, is not something any of us want to relive. Especially me, I’ve been there and done that. So, people do have a hard time accepting us, and I have many scars to prove it.
4. How old are you?
I’m sure you couldn’t guess how old I am. I’m coming up on my second century. And, yes, the years of experience do make me better in bed.
5. What is it like working with your author – is she susceptible to your charms?
Miss Paige is easy to speak to as long as she isn’t being badgered by one of her cops, or hogged by that new BDSM master who’s story is taking up all her time. I’d like to show him a thing or two about floggers, and not in a pleasurable way. I’ll vamp up and admit I haven’t been easy on her recently. I can be prig-headed, demanding, and angry. She probably won’t say it out loud, but sometimes I think I might frighten her. I don’t mean to, but what she wants to do with my future mate infuriates me. Sometimes she can forget that I can be one scary Mother… Uh… sorry, forgive the vitriol. I have had to remind her a couple times that Mikhail is the player and I’m dead serious. I expect that we will come to an amicable conclusion, soon. If not, well, I might have to bare my fangs and show her who is really in charge here.
6. How can readers reach you and buy your book?
Right now you can only see me in my sister Anna’s book. Also, a bit about me is in my brother Luke’s story. Keep your eyes open though in 2011. I expect to have my tell-all released in the new year. And, I’m the lucky one who got to go full-length first. Miss Paige has informed me that I have a bit of a fixation when it comes to my mate, so she’s aptly named my book, Bound By Obsession. Hey what’s a male to do when the lady he wants can’t be his and murder isn’t an option?
7. Anything you’d like to add?
Christa neglected me while she attended to a detective. After watching his story unfold, I understand why she devoted so much time to Tyler Mason and his love. His story is worth telling and he gets his woman at the end. Maybe that will be my fate, too. I’d say the cop has some wicked seduction tricks up his sleeve. While you are waiting for my story to come out, you might want to watch Mason charm the swimsuit right off of Sophia in, Star Spangled Kiss. Other than that, if you have any questions for me, send them to Christa at christapaigeauthor@gmail.com . While Mikhail lauds every fan-mail that comes in, I’m not adverse to a few letters myself. Go sparingly on the perfume though, I do have heightened senses.
Here is an excerpt of Bound By Obsession:
Soft footfalls captured Tray’s awareness. Settling back in his chair, he tried to tamp down the aggression simmering in his blood. He just needed a minute to see her. To make sure she was happy. Then, he would get the hell out of there and continue on with his miserable, lonely life.
The door opened and he couldn’t help his automatic response. Turning his head, the instant she walked through the threshold, he watched her stride into the chamber. Oh Christ, she had grown up and the infatuation he had felt those many years ago shattered into a million bits and was replaced by a desire so great, so intense that it was a wonder he didn’t bolt out of his chair, back her to the wall and claim her, irrevocably, as his.
Making a fist, he clenched every muscle in his body, forcing himself to remain seated. But it was a hard task to endure. She brushed past him and walked behind her desk. A mixture of expensive perfume and natural femininity tickled his nose, teasing his senses. He tracked her every step, watching the way she moved. Beautiful did not even begin to describe the woman now standing in front of him. Though, it was immediately apparent that she tried to stifle her looks by hiding them with nondescript clothes. But it hardly mattered. The way her plain black, A-line skirt hugged her hips and tight ass did something to his pulse. It kicked up, pumping double time as he imagined running his hands over those curves, gripping tightly and pulling her against him. Then they would be thigh to thigh, chest to breast; no space separating them.
But what if she is a mother, married, not available for your torrid needs? He admonished himself. No matter the truth, he had little power to rip his stare away. It settled at those lovely swells, gently hugged by a silky pin-striped blouse. He could make out the line of her bra. It was plain white with a front clasp. Perfect for easy removal.
Hell! Shaking his head, he battened down the lustful images flitting through his mind and steeled himself for the moment when their eyes would meet. Would she recognize him? Damn, but he wanted her to remember him. It would make things a little easier. Perhaps, it would soothe the beast inside which he struggled to keep caged behind an aloof mask.
A sliver of a second ticked by and he tipped his head back just enough to see her face. The instant he saw her mouth, the line of her lips pursed together, he had to quell the urge to soften them with his kiss. He wanted to nibble and, suckle there until the dusky flesh was swollen and bee stung. As if somehow his thoughts reached her, the tip of her tongue slid out and moistened the bottom lip. His pulse jacked up and his body hardened an instinctive reaction to such an evocative sight. She had pale skin, tinged with a natural blush which highlighted her cheekbones. That rosy flush stood out a little too much for his liking. It wasn’t age causing them to draw his notice. Instead, he realized belatedly her entire body had changed. Thin didn’t adequately describe the difference. More like, she hadn’t been taking good care of herself.
What the hell had happened to all those luscious curves?
Forcing his gaze up, he finally met her penetrating stare. Bethany’s eyes had always drawn him in and this happened once again. Wide and elegant, the almond shape gave her an air of innocence. The light brown had little flecks of gold dotted throughout the darker color. Most people would not be able to make out the different shades of amber but his preternatural eyesight allowed a deeper inspection. She met his look, lifted one finely arched eyebrow at his perusal.
“Are you finished?”
Her voice washed over him. Soft and yet concise, she knew that he had been checking her out. He grinned, “Not yet.” Taking his time, he deliberately continued his inspection allowing his stare to linger as he took in the bun containing her long auburn hair. His palms tingled wanting to pull the twist free so he could grip the thick tendrils as he brought her close, guiding her up to his hungry kiss.
God! And he was hungry. Starving even. He should have forced himself to take more from Tory’s vein. The reminiscence of that sour taste on his tongue made him recoil but he fought the urge to scowl. Diverting his focus back to Bethany’s lovely face, it took all his power to keep his fangs right where they were, retracted within his gums. No way in hell could he allow his base needs free rein. Not at his age. He did not pant and salivate like a horny teen! After all, he was the scary one of the family, cold and calculating. Hadn’t Mikhail reminded him of those lethal characteristics last night? Deadly, that was Tray in a nut-shell.
Bethany looked like the type who should have a man that cuddled and doted upon her. The kind of affection he gave would probably leave bruises.
The instant he thought of that, he found his stare fixed at her throat. He could almost see two neat puncture wounds, left from his imagined claiming. An overwhelming desire to bite her there, marking her as his, hit him like a fiery hot bolt of lust. Shifting in his seat, he gritted his teeth and willed his demons into submission. Not today. Not ever!
“Ok,” he said in a tone a tad deeper than normal. Luckily no other of his kind was around to hear that telltale edge in his voice.
“Ok, what?” she asked him with a business-like efficiency.
“I am done.” He almost laughed but only just smirked.
“Very well then,” Bethany retorted before sitting down into her big, leather chair. She leaned over and retrieved a file folder. Opening it, she set it on the blotter. Reaching for the pen, she looked directly at him, smiled, and asked, “What brings you here today, Mr. Komar?”
He drew in a lungful of air, waited and then exhaled. “You, Bethany.”
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