Casse Narome is the alter-ego of a self-proclaimed awesome weirdo who spent her childhood reading and daydreaming. As an adult that is also how she spends her time only now she writes her daydreams down for everyone to read. Casse is never serious, has been accused of wishing her life was a sitcom, laugh track and all, has a bad habit of talking out loud to herself and she is fine with being a little insane. She spends way too much time online, laughing at her own jokes and too much money buying books. You will find her on Twitter being very random and spewing her opinions. When you see her online, tell her to get back to her writing! Or just engage her in a hilarious random conversation.
Casse Narome writes YA, Adult and New Adult all in the paranormal romance genre.
I looked up at the face of the sexiest man I had ever seen. His kiss met my neck and a moan escaped my lips. Lower. My collarbone. And still, his kisses traveled lower. His tongue now, trailing a path across my heated skin. I tangled my hand into his hair. The soft curly strands wrapped around my fingers. He pulled his kisses away and finally his stare met mine. His eyes…
I jerked awake searching the room. I wasn’t sure if I was frantic or hopeful. Burgundy. Those dark whiskey-colored eyes.
“Damn, I obviously need to get laid,” I told Jim.
My annoying kiddy ringtone went off.
We sat at the outside eating area of a small Indian restaurant with the sun shining down on us. I think he wanted privacy. Our food arrived and he kept looking down at his samosa. He appeared deep in thought and I didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, it gave me a chance to study his sharp features.
Everything about him was beautiful. With his head down, his dark curly hair fell forward across his face. I had this insane urge to reach out and brush it away, even though the gesture seemed way too intimate. I almost did it anyway. My hand reached out, but then he sighed and I caught myself, pulling my hand back.
“I am trying to figure out where to start. You must think I am a monster.”
I didn’t answer him. I knew I should hate him for the pain I’ve felt, and a part of me did but looking at him now, that hatred wouldn’t surface.
“I understand if you hate me. It seems so unfair—what you are and who I am. I haven’t always had this duty, but I understand better than all of us. The point of it all, the self-sacrifice when everyone else practiced indulgence. This is my reward!” He gestured with his arms open wide in exasperation. “But I get it. Without what I do, nobody, NO ONE, would cherish anyone. No one would make the best of the time they are given, when it’s given. There would be no need for children or sex. When nobody dies, who needs birth? We’d run out of room. Do you get what I’m saying?” His eyes met mine, burning a hole to my soul.
“Eric.” I whispered. It was all I could say before the tears came. He pulled me into his arms. A feeling I had felt so many times before…me crying in bed. Tears soaking my pillow. Warm arms wrapping around me, strong hands smoothing my hair from my face. I was dreaming. Dante was dead. Let me have this dream forever. A kiss on my forehead as soft hair caresses my skin. I smile and peek my eyes open just before falling deeper asleep. Clinched jaw. Bold Tattoos
“Shhh. It’s okay. Nothing is going to hurt you. Just relax,” Eric cajoled like he had done countless nights before. How could I have forgotten? I thought it was a dream but Eric was real, these arms were real.