Another Lifetime
An Exclusive Bonus Chapter from The Carnal Loop
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You made it to the bonus content—which means you’ve journeyed through a thousand years of love with Lena and Lucian. Thank you for giving their story a chance.
This exclusive chapter is our gift to dedicated readers like you. It’s too spicy for Amazon, so you’ll only find it here.
⚠️ Content Warning
This bonus chapter contains extremely explicit sexual content including: extended BDSM scenes, tantric practices, multi-hour edging, sensation play with various implements, power exchange, role reversal, and intensity that pushes both characters to their limits.
All activities are consensual between established partners with safewords in place.
This content is intended for adults 18+ only.
Another Lifetime
Set one year after the epilogue
Part One: The Journals
Santorini, Greece — One Year After
Lena found the journals by accident.
She was looking for a book—something she’d started reading the week before and misplaced somewhere in the villa’s labyrinthine shelves. Lucian had accumulated centuries worth of possessions, and even after a year of living together, she still discovered new corners of his collection.
The shelf in question was tucked into an alcove of his study, half-hidden behind a velvet curtain she’d assumed was purely decorative. When she pushed it aside, she found not the novel she was seeking but a row of leather-bound journals, their spines cracked with age, their pages yellowed by time.
She knew what they were immediately. He’d mentioned them once—the records he kept of each lifetime, his bulwark against the Fade. She’d assumed they were lost, consumed by the curse’s breaking.
Apparently not.
“Lucian?” she called, but the villa was silent. He’d gone to the village for supplies, wouldn’t be back for hours.
Lena pulled a journal from the shelf and opened it at random.
The handwriting was his—she recognized it despite the archaic flourishes—but the language was unfamiliar. Latin, she thought, or perhaps Greek. She flipped forward, searching for something she could read, and found pages in English.
Venice, 1522
I dreamed of her again last night. The same dream I’ve had for centuries—her body arched beneath mine, her voice crying out in pleasure, her soul finally, completely open.
In the dream, we try something I’ve never dared attempt in waking life. Something I learned in the pleasure houses of the Orient, a technique said to prolong ecstasy for hours. The Venetian courtesans whisper of similar practices—what they call the “Protocol”—though I doubt any of them have truly mastered it.
I wake aching. Wanting. Knowing that if I pushed her too far, too fast, I would lose her as I have lost all the others.
And so I do not push. I hold myself back. I give her pleasure in measured doses, always careful, always controlled.
But in my dreams, there is no control. In my dreams, I show her everything.
Lena’s breath caught.
She turned to another entry.
Persia, 891
The scholars here speak of tantric practices from the East—ways of channeling desire into transcendence. They say a man can learn to separate climax from release, to ride the edge of pleasure indefinitely, to use sensation as a doorway to enlightenment.
I have studied their texts. I have practiced their techniques in solitude.
But I have never shared them with her.
I am afraid. Afraid that such intensity would shatter her rather than awaken her. Afraid that my hunger would consume us both.
And so I add another fantasy to the collection of things I want but do not take.
Another entry. Another century.
Japan, 1868
She sang to me today. A lullaby her mother taught her, soft and sweet, while I lay with my head in her lap.
I wanted to tell her what that song does to me. How it makes me want to pin her down and worship every inch of her body until she forgets her own name. How I’ve spent centuries learning techniques of pleasure that I’ve never had the courage to use.
Instead, I just listened. And ached. And added another unfulfilled desire to the journals that hold my secrets.
Page after page. Century after century. A thousand years of restrained desire, carefully documented, never acted upon.
By the time Lena finished reading, her hands were trembling.
Not from shock. Not from fear.
From want.
She selected one of the journals—the one with the most detailed descriptions, the most elaborate fantasies, the things that made her thighs clench just reading about them.
She carried it to their bedroom.
And she left it open on his pillow with a single note:
“Show me everything.”
Part Two: The Venetian Protocol
Lucian found the journal at sunset.
Lena was waiting on the terrace, a glass of wine in her hand, her heart pounding with anticipation and nerves. She heard him enter the villa. Heard his footsteps pause in the bedroom. A long, heavy silence.
Then his footsteps again, crossing to the terrace doors.
She turned.
He stood in the doorway, the journal in his hands, his expression unreadable. The setting sun painted him in shades of gold and shadow, and Lena thought—not for the first time—that he looked like something out of myth. A god. A demon. Something ancient and powerful and devastatingly beautiful.
“You read this,” he said. Not a question.
“I read all of them.”
“These are… private.”
“I know.” She set down her wine and walked toward him. “I also know you’ve been holding back. For a thousand years, you’ve been giving me measured pleasure, controlled intensity, careful love.” She stopped in front of him, close enough to feel his heat. “I don’t want careful anymore, Lucian. I want everything.”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I read the journals. I know exactly what I’m asking for.” She reached up, cupping his face in her hands. “The Venetian Protocol. The tantric techniques from Persia. The things you learned in pleasure houses and temples and a thousand years of wanting without having.” She held his gaze. “Show me. All of it. Tonight.”
“It could take hours.”
“We have all night.”
“It will push you further than you’ve ever gone.”
“Good.” She smiled—slow, challenging. “I’ve spent a year proving I can take whatever you give me. Time to find out if that’s actually true.”
Something shifted in his eyes. The careful control she’d grown accustomed to flickered, and beneath it, she glimpsed what he’d been hiding all along.
Hunger.
Raw, ancient, terrifying hunger.
“If we do this,” he said slowly, “there’s no stopping until we’re done. No safeword will end it early—only pause it. Once we begin the Protocol, we see it through. That’s how it works.”
“I understand.”
“You’ll beg me to stop. You’ll mean it. And I won’t.”
“I know.”
“You might hate me before dawn.”
“I might.” She rose on her toes and kissed him—soft, tender, full of trust. “But I’ll love you after. I’ll always love you after.”
Lucian made a sound—half growl, half groan—and the journal fell from his hands as he swept her into his arms.
“Then tonight,” he said against her lips, “you learn what a thousand years of patience looks like when it finally breaks.”
He carried her to the bedroom.
And the sun finished setting on the Aegean Sea.
And a night that would span lifetimes began.
— The bonus chapter continues for another 10,000+ words —
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