Embracing the Darkness
What makes paranormal romance so popular? I’ve been pondering this question for a while. Readers, it seems, are happy to consume as many tales about vampires, shape shifters, ghosts and psychics as we authors can produce. You’d think that they’d get bored, but that doesn’t seem to happen. Why not?
I’ve got a theory. We’re all tempted by the dark side.
The realms of paranormal romance are vast, but most books offer characters with dual natures, torn between normal humanity and?otherness. The “other” aspect conveys special powers?unnatural strength, heightened sensation, hidden knowledge?but always at a price. The characters suffer because of their power. Blood-drinkers and half-beasts are ravaged by conscience because they maim or kill. Immortals bear the weight of lonely, isolated centuries and the pain of watching mortal companions wither and die. My prescient hero Kyle in At the Margins of Madness can see the future but the fury of his visions drives him insane. Jorge in Serpent’s Kiss is the incarnation of an ancient god but each time he makes love to his human mate he comes close to killing her. Tony, the dominant ghost in Rendezvous, has a single night in which to search for the connection he never found when he was alive.
In the paranormal genre, power and darkness go hand in hand. Yet somehow, we are attracted to the darkness. We brush the suffering aside; we want to feel the power. A vampires isn’t sexy when he’s fighting against his blood craving. Only when he sweeps his victim into his arms and buries his fangs in her flesh does he make us breathless and moist.
How many books have you read where the human hero or heroine willingly submits to “the change”, the transformation that will make them “other” as well? How many characters, in contrast, manage to resist the pull of the dark side? Not many. Normal mortal life seems absurd, bland and empty after you’ve tasted power. This is especially true because sex on the dark side in erotic romance is always more intense, more extreme, transcending the limits that bind ordinary humans.
Even a villain with supernatural powers tempts us. A well-written antagonist should invite enough identification that the reader can understand what moves him to do evil. The best bad guys are ambiguous, able to justify their deeds so well that they draw our sympathy. They dazzle us with their logic and their beauty, until we can’t see their wickedness. Lucifer still looks like an angel as he bargains for your soul.
We’re drawn to the dark side, I think, because it’s an escape. Sometimes the real world leaves us feeling so powerless?we can’t help wanting the ability to take control, to bend the world to our will the way our paranormal characters do. Who wouldn’t want to leave the dirty dishes and the unpaid bills behind and slip away into the night, to slink through the shadowy streets scenting for blood or to howl, unfettered, at the moon?
The dark side calls to us in paranormal romance. Every time we open a new book, we flirt with the possibility of ecstatic surrender.
New Release!
Rendezvous
By Lisabet Sarai
BDSM Paranormal Romance
11,600 words, 47 pages
Smashwords and Amazon KDP
ISBN (Smashwords): 9798224035007
ASIN: ??B0DJZ93M23?
I am who I am, and I know what you want.
Rebecca believes in magic. She has never lost her childhood love of Halloween, when she can don a costume and step away from her boring, ordinary self. For one night, she transforms into someone else – someone mysterious, daring, sensual and seductive.
When All Hallow’s Eve finds her stranded at a seedy motel a hundred miles from her friend’s annual party, she is desperately disappointed. Then she discovers that her room is haunted by the invisible but unquestionably virile ghost of a rake who seduced local women nearly half a century earlier.
Excerpt
It was as though I’d been cursed.
First, my boss sent me on an out-of-state sales trip for the day. That effectively nixed my plan to leave work early and help Christie get ready for her party. Then, as I was rushing to get back to the city, the trusty Taurus blew a gasket on an empty stretch of I-35 south of Emporia. The mechanic told me that the problem wouldn’t be fixed before noon the next day.
The next day? I couldn’t believe my bad luck. I was stuck until November 1st in some dinky town nearly a hundred miles from Kansas City. If the car had been my own, I would have found a bus or a cab home and come back after Halloween to pick it up. But of course it was the company’s car, and I knew I’d catch hell if I abandoned it in some no-name garage.
The motel was the last straw. Maybe I could have consoled myself in a nice modern Holiday Inn or even a Super-8: taken a long hot shower, relaxed on the king-sized bed, and wallowed in self-pity while eating take-out pizza and sampling the mini-bar. The Rendezvous Ranch Motel, though, was the kind of relic that you’d think only exists in horror movies. The fake pine paneling was warped by damp. Staring at the wall, you felt that you were looking in a fun-house mirror. The furniture was pure Ozzie and Harriet, right down to the twin beds with their faux-colonial bedposts. The shower head dribbled even when shut tight; streaks of red stained the bottom of the bathtub. Rust, of course, but I couldn’t suppress a little shiver at the gory appearance.
The grizzled desk clerk shook his head when I asked about restaurants, bars, any kind of local entertainment. “Closest food is the diner in Cottonwood Falls, eight miles back. But they don’t deliver past six.” He looked alarmed when he realized that I was on the verge of crying. “There’s vending machines ’round back, Miss.”
Seeing that this did not reassure me, he reached under the counter and brought out an unopened half-pint of cheap scotch. “Here, you can have this. Help you relax. And we’ve got satellite TV, too. Works most of the time.”
I managed to swallow my tears and take the bottle. “Thanks. What about breakfast, though?”
“If you’re awake by six tomorrow, I can run you into Emporia at the end of my shift.”
“Thanks, I’d really appreciate that.” I paused at the screen door, surveying the empty parking lot. “Expecting anyone else tonight?”
“Nope. Might get some late-night trucker, but they usually want a place with better —amenities, I think you call ’em.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Amenities.” I tried not to be sarcastic. The old guy was working hard to be nice.
I strolled across the gravel on the way back to Room 7. It was crisp and breezy, but warm for October. A golden crescent of moon hung near the horizon, across the fields of stubble that stretched in all directions. If I strained my ears, I could hear the distant hum of traffic on I-35. Otherwise, it was as quiet as the proverbial grave.
An appropriate comparison for Halloween. I threw myself down on the chenille spread, tears threatening again. Damn, damn, damn. Why tonight, of all nights? I checked my watch; it was just seven. Christie would be in costume already. She’d be lighting the candles, dumping the brandy into the witches’ brew punch, laying out the tarot cards in preparation for her guests’ arrival. I wanted to be there, more than I’d ever wanted anything.
Buy Links
Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/1665-rendezvous/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DJZ93M23
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DJZ93M23
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1632465
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-lisabet-sarai/1017487787?ean=2940167735668
Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/x/id6736960598
Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/220378140-rendezvous
Add on Bookbub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/rendezvous-by-lisabet-sarai
About Lisabet
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh
Thanks so much for featuring my new release, Kate!
Given your own fascination with the supernatural, the essay you chose to share is highly appropriate.
xxoo,
Lisabet
Thank you so much for being a guest, Lisabet! I enjoyed the article!