Showing posts with label Enchantress of Books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Enchantress of Books. Show all posts
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Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Release Day: The Fire Inside by Kathryn Shay
About The Book:
The Fire Inside
(Hidden Cove Firefighters #7)
by Kathryn Shay
Blurb:
Fire Department Psychologist Jack Harrison has spent his life helping firefighters in Hidden Cove deal with firefighting deaths, PTSD, broken marriages, the fear of spouses for their loved ones, and a variety of firefighter romances. He is especially beloved by the Malvasos, as revealed in the previous family saga novels. But when he goes to upstate New York to train incognito with a recruit class, he meets Captain Tess Righetti, unaware of her connection to the famous Italian family. And he clashes big time with her about her stern approach to teaching the recruits.
Then, one night after she is injured, their contact unexpectedly explodes into sizzling passion, but because of circumstances, Jack never contacts her again. Until she moves to Hidden Cove. Tempers flare, sparks fly and fireworks follow them everywhere.
Available for purchase at
Visit Kathryn's website to read the first chapter!
For a limited time you can get the first book in the series for FREE
About The Author:
Fully intending to pursue her dream of big city lights and success in the literary world, Kathryn took every creative writing class available at the small private women’s college she attended in upstate New York. Instead, other dreams took precedence. She met and subsequently married a wonderful guy who’d attended a neighboring school, then completed her practice teaching, a requirement for the education degree she never intended to use. “But,” says Kathryn, “I fell in love with teaching the first day I was up in front of a class, and knew I was meant to do that.”
Kathryn went on to build a successful career in the New York state school system, thoroughly enjoying her work with adolescents. But by the early 1990s, she’d again made room in her life for writing. It was then that she submitted her first manuscript to publishers and agents. Despite enduring two years of rejections, she persevered. And on a snowy December afternoon in 1994, Kathryn sold her first book to Harlequin Superromance.
To this date, Kathryn has written a total of fifty-two books: thirty-six romances with the Berkley Publishing Group and Harlequin Enterprises, 1 mainstream women’s fiction with Bold Strokes Books and fifteen original independently published romances. There are over five million copies of her books in print, along with hundreds of thousands downloaded online.
Kathryn has won five RT Book Reviews awards, four Golden Quill Awards, four Holt Medallions, the Bookseller’s Best Award, Foreword Magazine’s Book of the Year and several “Starred Reviews.” Her novels have been serialized in COSMOPOLITAN magazine and featured in USA TODAY, THE WALL STREET JOURNAL and PEOPLE magazine. Her work has made the NEW YORK TIMES, USA TODAY, Amazon, Apple and Barnes and Noble bestseller lists. There are over five million copies of her books in print, along with hundreds of thousands downloaded online.
Even in light of her writing success, that initial love of teaching never wavered for Kathryn. She finished out her teaching career in 2004, retiring from the same school where her career began. These days, she splits her time between a home in upstate New York and a condo on the beach in Florida.
“My life is very full,” she reports, “but very happy. I consider myself fortunate to have been able to pursue and achieve my dreams.”
You can find Kathryn at
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Monday, October 27, 2014
Release Day Blitz: Purgatory #3: Charming The Beast by Cynthia Eden
About The Book:
Title: Charming The Beast
Series: Purgatory #3
Author: Cynthia Eden
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: October 27, 2014
New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Cynthia Eden spins a dark and sexy new paranormal romance tale…
He’s a man with a beast inside…
Connor Marrok never intended to work for the Seattle Para Unit. He’s not one of the good guys—he’s a real monster, and the beast he carries doesn’t exactly play nicely. But now he finds himself being blackmailed into a new assignment. It’s supposed to be his last gig. His mission? Protect the beautiful Chloe Quick. Keep her alive. Destroy her enemies. Easy enough…until he starts to fall for Chloe.
She just wants to escape.
Chloe is tired of being a prisoner. She wants to get away from her Para Unit guard and run fast into the night. So what if Connor is the sexiest guy she’s ever met? Chloe knows trouble when she sees it, and Connor is one big, dangerous package of trouble. But, when an obsessed werewolf begins stalking Chloe, she realizes that her paranormal bodyguard may just be the one man she needs the most.
Their attraction is primal.
Every moment that Chloe and Connor spend together increases their attraction. Chloe has never felt a need so strong or a desire so dark. The beast that Chloe carries inside has always been silent, but Connor is stirring up her animal instincts. And as the danger and desire begin to twist together, Chloe wonders just how far she’d be willing to go…in order to spend one more night in Connor’s arms.
Excerpt:
“Is that really how you say thanks? By trying to cut me open?” He kept his voice low and he made sure to keep them in the shadows. The last thing he wanted was some do-gooder human coming around.
Her breath panted out as she heaved in his hold. He didn’t let her go.
“I…I didn’t realize it was you.”
Right. He could actually buy that. Seeing as how she kept having werewolves stalk her, she truly might have thought someone else was after her.
“It’s me,” he told her grimly. “You ran from me.”
He could see every beautiful detail of her face, even in the darkness. He had perfect vision—perfectly enhanced vision. There was no missing the fear in her expression. He didn’t like Chloe’s fear. Even when he was pissed at her, Connor didn’t want her to be afraid.
“You know I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice a low rasp.
“Then let me go.”
If only things were that simple. “I can’t.”
Her lips trembled. Her lips were the first thing he’d noticed about her—they were full and red. The kind of lips that instantly made him think of sex. Then he’d gotten caught in her eyes. No one should have eyes that blue. Maybe it was because her hair was so dark, a perfect black, and, in contrast to that darkness, her eyes appeared to be such a bright, electric blue.
Her face was heart-shaped, her cheekbones almost ridiculously high. She had a small nose and a slightly pointed chin. Her skin was pale, probably because the Para Unit had been keeping her in various stages of isolation and she hadn’t exactly been free to roam in the outside world and soak up a bit of sunshine.
But that was what happened when you killed a man…and when you rose from the dead. You get monitored by the Para Unit.
Chloe Quick wasn’t supposed to be in front of him. She’d died a few weeks ago. Not some near-death BS, either. She’d been knifed in the heart. She’d died.
Then she’d come back, thanks to the dark wish of a djinn. Only now, the Para Unit didn’t exactly know what Chloe was.
“I warned you not to escape,” he told her. The other werewolf had been right. Her scent was damn near intoxicating, and if he’d just been a werewolf, he probably would have been nearly mindless in his desire to claim her.
But he wasn’t just a wolf, and that was why Eric Pate had given him guard duty with Chloe. Because I’m supposed to be able to control my baser impulses. But if that were truly the case, would he be holding her so carefully, his fingers sliding over her wrists, his body pushing ever closer to hers?
Her breath panted out as she heaved in his hold. He didn’t let her go.
“I…I didn’t realize it was you.”
Right. He could actually buy that. Seeing as how she kept having werewolves stalk her, she truly might have thought someone else was after her.
“It’s me,” he told her grimly. “You ran from me.”
He could see every beautiful detail of her face, even in the darkness. He had perfect vision—perfectly enhanced vision. There was no missing the fear in her expression. He didn’t like Chloe’s fear. Even when he was pissed at her, Connor didn’t want her to be afraid.
“You know I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice a low rasp.
“Then let me go.”
If only things were that simple. “I can’t.”
Her lips trembled. Her lips were the first thing he’d noticed about her—they were full and red. The kind of lips that instantly made him think of sex. Then he’d gotten caught in her eyes. No one should have eyes that blue. Maybe it was because her hair was so dark, a perfect black, and, in contrast to that darkness, her eyes appeared to be such a bright, electric blue.
Her face was heart-shaped, her cheekbones almost ridiculously high. She had a small nose and a slightly pointed chin. Her skin was pale, probably because the Para Unit had been keeping her in various stages of isolation and she hadn’t exactly been free to roam in the outside world and soak up a bit of sunshine.
But that was what happened when you killed a man…and when you rose from the dead. You get monitored by the Para Unit.
Chloe Quick wasn’t supposed to be in front of him. She’d died a few weeks ago. Not some near-death BS, either. She’d been knifed in the heart. She’d died.
Then she’d come back, thanks to the dark wish of a djinn. Only now, the Para Unit didn’t exactly know what Chloe was.
“I warned you not to escape,” he told her. The other werewolf had been right. Her scent was damn near intoxicating, and if he’d just been a werewolf, he probably would have been nearly mindless in his desire to claim her.
But he wasn’t just a wolf, and that was why Eric Pate had given him guard duty with Chloe. Because I’m supposed to be able to control my baser impulses. But if that were truly the case, would he be holding her so carefully, his fingers sliding over her wrists, his body pushing ever closer to hers?
The PURGATORY Series:
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About The Author:
USA Today Best-selling author Cynthia Eden has written over twenty-five novels and novellas. She was named as a 2013 RITA® finalist for her paranormal romance, ANGEL IN CHAINS, and, in 2011, Cynthia Eden was a RITA finalist for her romantic suspense, DEADLY FEAR.
Cynthia is a southern girl who loves horror movies, chocolate, and happy endings. She has always wanted to write (don’t most authors say that?), and particularly enjoys creating stories about monsters–vampires, werewolves, and even the real-life monsters that populate her romantic suspense stories.Cynthia’s foreign sales for her books include translations to Japan, Germany, Thailand, Greece, and Brazil.
(Back in the day…) Cynthia graduated summa cum laude from the University of South Alabama where she studied Sociology (because people interest her) and Communication (because she likes to write about said people). Cynthia has worked as a college admissions counselor, a teacher, and as an editor. But now, Cynthia is thrilled to be spending her days making up stories.
Website/Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
#CharmingTheBeast #ReleaseDay
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Blog Tour: Doctors Beyond Borders by Georgie Tyler
Doctors Beyond Borders
By Georgie Tyler
Blurb:
She’s about to find out that nothing is fair when it comes to war, except, perhaps, the healing power of love.Blurb:
When Ariadne Tate takes a deployment to Sudan with a medical aid organisation, romance is the last thing on her mind…but Dr Ford Gosden puts a glitch in her plans. Too damn attractive for his own good and a thoroughly nice guy, Ford slowly seeps under Ariadne’s skin.
But Sudan is not a stable place to form a relationship, and as political tension escalates in the region, Ariadne has no choice but to focus on her job and her safety. Under the protection of a UN convoy, she heads out into the war-torn countryside — and the unthinkable happens. Captured and held hostage by a renegade with no chance of escape, Ariadne’s hope for a new life with the man she loves begins to fade and the fight for her life begins.
Available for purchase at
Excerpt
He strode over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She wasn't sure whether she should move away. Need had her leaning into his frame. He was warm and comforting.
All too soon, he turned her to face him and held both her shoulders in his hands, exposing her to the nip of the air again.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Yeah, I just couldn't sleep.’ She curled her lips into a feeble smile for his benefit. She didn't want him to think she was weak and couldn't take what Sudan dished out.
‘I wish you hadn't said anything about scorpions, though. I’m a fully-fledged arachnophobe.’
His eyes crinkled in the corners. ‘I wish I could bunk in with you and protect you from the little suckers, but it’s a strictly male/female dorm policy here.’
She chuckled wrapping her arms around her waist. ‘I don’t know what’s more dangerous, the scorpions or you.’ She gazed at him through her lashes.
A single finger smoothed over her cheek and the outline of her bottom lip. ‘Me, honey, always me.
About The Author
Georgie Tyler lives on Sydney’s leafy North Shore with her husband and three children. After years of being a stay-at-home mum she decided to branch out and return to university to study teaching and pursue her lifelong dream of becoming a writer. When she’s not teaching or writing she likes to watch movies, catch up with family and friends, and has been known to dally on social media.
You can find Georgie at
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Friday, July 25, 2014
Release Day: The Darkmore Saga #1: Chasing Sunrise by Lex Chase
About The Book:
Title: Chasing Sunrise
Series: The Darkmore Saga: Book One
Author: Lex Chase
Genre: Vampires, Werewolves/Shapeshifters, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal, Fantasy
Release Date: July 25, 2014
On the Coastal Bend of Texas, a hidden kingdom called Darkmore lies in ruins, and King Sevon Maraté is trapped. Using Sevon as a mouthpiece and a scapegoat, Lord Dominic rules from the shadows. Sevon copes with the unrelenting abuse by dressing in women's finery and casting an image of graceful nobility. Born of royal verkolai blood and as beautiful as he is lethal, he possesses the ability to part the Veil separating his world from hundreds of others. His gift is his chance to escape, but Dominic refuses to relinquish his tool for power. Dominic forges an ambitious plan to invade the prosperous land of Priagust. Only a select few know the mythic kingdom of shifters exists. Sevon is out of options for his people’s survival, and cooperating with Dominic is his only chance.
On their foray into Priagust, Dominic's men kidnap and interrogate a shifter named Jack. Even under torture, Jack's loyalty to his kind never wavers. But as Jack’s knowledge about Darkmore’s king and its history unsettles Sevon, a curious bond begins to form. Despite Sevon’s mistrust, Jack is determined to tame Sevon’s wild heart and perhaps earn his freedom. As invasion looms, Sevon wonders if trusting Jack will lead him into another trap or if he should forget about chasing the sunrise and remain Dominic's compliant prisoner.
Excerpt:
Jack shuddered against the cold bite of his shackles. The iron cuffs held him upright, and his arms were stretched tight over his head. Gravity pulled him sloping forward painfully against his bonds. His umber hair swayed in sweat-slicked strands and clung to his face. The humidity hung like milky fog visible against the gray stones. He could smell the herbal traces of algae glazing the walls. No moans, no cries for release, not even a rattled chain sounded throughout the dungeon. He deduced he was the only prisoner—or the only one currently living.
It had happened so fast. He was at the shoreline of the lake when two figures shot from the water. Shrouded in black, the demonic men yanked him into the lake. Jack had expected his end. But he didn’t expect a dungeon, and not just any, but Darkmore’s dungeon. He knew it as well as any ghost story. He had teased Sevon mercilessly for crossing his fingers and turning in a circle three times as he walked by the entrance.
Jack’s heart softened. Sevon, sweet Sevon. It had been exciting for Jack when he was a cub to have a special friend outside of Priagust. One who was not a shifter at all, but something different. He was Jack’s treasure, and he would guard their memory.
But the men had taken him and tossed him in this dank cell. It had to be a mistake. Darkmore was Priagust’s sworn protector. King Louis would never wrongfully imprison a shifter. Jack spit a speck of grit. Was Louis alive? Did he survive the storm? What of Anna Maria? Surely she’d know.
But Jack wasn’t sure. He had been just a child when he saw Louis die, and all childhood memories were fallible. He could only hope it was a misunderstanding. He squinted with the painful pull in his shoulders, and the realization sank in. This was far more than a mere misunderstanding.
Jack’s pupils flexed into pinpricks when the sound of distant footsteps announced someone’s approach. He jerked his chin toward the sound to get the first look at his host.
An ethereal, earthbound spirit drifted into the dungeon. Pale as Winter Mother’s snow and with a brilliant bloom of golden curls to rival Father Sun’s rays, the woman captivated him. Dressed in layers of the midnight sky and coal, her skirts swirled in a trail of goldfish fins behind her. The unusual ladybird settled at the cell door, tossing a lock of spun gold over her shoulder. She waited.
“What do they call you?” she coldly demanded.
A peculiar tenor tone in her voice made Jack choke on his breath. A man. The strange, colorful bird was a man.
By the way he glared at Jack as if he were of no consequence, Jack decided that whatever the case, he had to be on guard. Jack sniffed and mentally discerned a more masculine scent under the perfumed oils. But there were two masculine scents, this beautiful man’s and someone else’s. He licked the salt on his lip and smirked. He had nothing left to lose.
Jack lifted his head, and he panted against the searing pain in his back. He focused on the curious little meadowlark shrouded in flimsy frippery. He had never seen such an unusual hue of hair before, but he knew one thing for certain.
“You’re not the king,” Jack said.
Something came over the strange man as he quirked his thin brow in irritation. “Yes, I am the king,” he growled in warning. “Your name, creature.”
Jack evaded the question and changed the subject. “The king of Darkmore would never show a shifter such hostility,” he spat. “Go, little meadowlark. Fetch him, now. You are of no concern.”
The supposed king recoiled on his booted heel as if he had been burned.
“Excuse me, you maggot?” he growled and his temper flared.
Jack squinted at him. He looked so much like Anna Maria, as Jack remembered her. Perhaps her son? Perhaps Sevon? Jack swallowed. He had to keep it to himself. He had to find out what he was dealing with first, if he survived that long. He thought of his brother, Kaltag, back in Priagust, probably wondering where he was and if Jack was still staring over the lake, waiting for the day Sevon would appear.
Jack’s heart thumped.
“Louis is gone. I am the king now, and you will answer to me. My sources tell me you’re a spy from the shifter land of Priagust,” he said. The accusation did not bode well for Jack.
Jack took his stand against his captor. He strained against his shackles and grinned through the searing pain in his shoulder blades. “Your sources are clearly mistaken. I was only fishing when your men emerged from the lake and tried to drown me. Which—” He glanced around, and his shackles rattled. “This is some level of hell, correct?” Jack watched him, still puzzling his way through recollections. It wasn’t possible he was Sevon. Why would Sevon become this? He hissed a laugh and kept up a brave face. Jack turned his gaze up. He smirked when the king leaned away from the hammered iron bars of Jack’s cell in disgusted horror. “You are a very fussy bird. You’re no more than a chick, peeping for nourishment.”
“You will answer my questions, shifter…. Or you will be forced to answer them.”
“What kind of king do you think you are?” Jack asked. “Do you understand the scope of what you are doing by holding me like a criminal?”
“Pardon me for not rolling out the red carpet and most lovely courtesans,” he said sarcastically.
“A little bird that pecks. I like that.” Jack chuckled.
Crossing his willowy arms in irritation, the king nodded to the stocky dungeon guard.
The guard loped forward on his gnarled legs and slipped the heavy key in the iron padlock. With a protesting shrill, the bolt popped from its moorings with a loud echoing clank. The cell door swung open with an antiquated creak, and colorful bird of a man slipped into the cell.
Jack’s heart thumped, and his face heated. It was Sevon. His Sevon. He had never been so sure. In the twenty-two years between then and now, the boy Jack had so longed for no longer existed. Confusion swirled through him, but Jack had to keep it within. More parts of the puzzle would fall into place if he just gave it time.
His heart wouldn’t stop racing; all the while he maintained his arrogant grin.
“I’d curtsey, but as you can see, I’m a little tied up,” Jack apologized.
This new Sevon cocked his hip in irritation and snorted. “For a vicious animal, you don’t look like much.”
The term hit Jack hard, but he wouldn’t cower.
“Funny.” Jack chuckled. “For a king, you present yourself quite a bit like a whore.”
Before he could blink, Sevon was upon him. He yanked Jack by the scruff of his hair, tilting his neck painfully backward on its stalk to meet him eye to eye. Jack’s eyes rolled wildly to focus on the glacier blue of Sevon’s. His scent stabbed into Jack’s nose, jabbing cruelly into his brain. The delicate floral became an unrelenting assault on his mind and body. The damning confirmation sank into Jack’s stomach. It was a matter of survival not to show fascination or fear.
“Listen to me, you worthless shit-eating maggot!” Sevon snarled in his face. “You don’t get to call me a whore! Do you understand? I will leave you here to rot in this dank cell until even the rats find you too foul and putrescent. You will be thankful we don’t outright kill you. You will be appreciative of your accommodations.”
Sevon relaxed his grip and his harsh tone eased. “You will be eager to answer our questions. You will make yourself very helpful. Or I will have you skinned alive and your flesh made into jerky.” Sevon snorted a breath through his nose, and Jack’s hair fluttered. The beautiful blond man smiled like a content feline. “Now, do we have an understanding?”
Channeling the bravest parts of himself, and locking away the heartbreak, Jack laughed with a crooked, toothy grin. If this was the game, then he would play it until he was the last one standing. Finally, he had sorted the second male scent, and his thoughts sparked with devious delight. “Did I ruffle your feathers, meadowlark? Does the man whose scent you’re slathered in get to ruffle more than your feathers?”
Sevon shoved him away with a wail of disgust. Jack’s head bounced against his chest, and his manacles creaked at the added pressure. Sevon’s offended squeal was the only warning as a hard, echoing slap cracked across Jack’s cheek so forcefully that his vision blew out into whiteness for a moment.
With several flustered breaths, Sevon sharply pivoted and then stormed out of the cell. He nodded to the stocky guard. “Have him questioned about the nature of his people and land. I don’t care how you do it, or to what ends. Use any means necessary to milk him dry.”
The guard bobbed his head and bowed.
Turning back, Sevon regarded Jack one final time.
Jack noted the confusion mingled with a semblance of fascination. He forced a smile through his blood-tinged teeth. “See you soon, Your Majesty,” he purred.
Jack clung to a scrap of hope, and listened to the whispers of Sevon’s skirts as he left Jack in the darkness.
The rats chittered.
It had happened so fast. He was at the shoreline of the lake when two figures shot from the water. Shrouded in black, the demonic men yanked him into the lake. Jack had expected his end. But he didn’t expect a dungeon, and not just any, but Darkmore’s dungeon. He knew it as well as any ghost story. He had teased Sevon mercilessly for crossing his fingers and turning in a circle three times as he walked by the entrance.
Jack’s heart softened. Sevon, sweet Sevon. It had been exciting for Jack when he was a cub to have a special friend outside of Priagust. One who was not a shifter at all, but something different. He was Jack’s treasure, and he would guard their memory.
But the men had taken him and tossed him in this dank cell. It had to be a mistake. Darkmore was Priagust’s sworn protector. King Louis would never wrongfully imprison a shifter. Jack spit a speck of grit. Was Louis alive? Did he survive the storm? What of Anna Maria? Surely she’d know.
But Jack wasn’t sure. He had been just a child when he saw Louis die, and all childhood memories were fallible. He could only hope it was a misunderstanding. He squinted with the painful pull in his shoulders, and the realization sank in. This was far more than a mere misunderstanding.
Jack’s pupils flexed into pinpricks when the sound of distant footsteps announced someone’s approach. He jerked his chin toward the sound to get the first look at his host.
An ethereal, earthbound spirit drifted into the dungeon. Pale as Winter Mother’s snow and with a brilliant bloom of golden curls to rival Father Sun’s rays, the woman captivated him. Dressed in layers of the midnight sky and coal, her skirts swirled in a trail of goldfish fins behind her. The unusual ladybird settled at the cell door, tossing a lock of spun gold over her shoulder. She waited.
“What do they call you?” she coldly demanded.
A peculiar tenor tone in her voice made Jack choke on his breath. A man. The strange, colorful bird was a man.
By the way he glared at Jack as if he were of no consequence, Jack decided that whatever the case, he had to be on guard. Jack sniffed and mentally discerned a more masculine scent under the perfumed oils. But there were two masculine scents, this beautiful man’s and someone else’s. He licked the salt on his lip and smirked. He had nothing left to lose.
Jack lifted his head, and he panted against the searing pain in his back. He focused on the curious little meadowlark shrouded in flimsy frippery. He had never seen such an unusual hue of hair before, but he knew one thing for certain.
“You’re not the king,” Jack said.
Something came over the strange man as he quirked his thin brow in irritation. “Yes, I am the king,” he growled in warning. “Your name, creature.”
Jack evaded the question and changed the subject. “The king of Darkmore would never show a shifter such hostility,” he spat. “Go, little meadowlark. Fetch him, now. You are of no concern.”
The supposed king recoiled on his booted heel as if he had been burned.
“Excuse me, you maggot?” he growled and his temper flared.
Jack squinted at him. He looked so much like Anna Maria, as Jack remembered her. Perhaps her son? Perhaps Sevon? Jack swallowed. He had to keep it to himself. He had to find out what he was dealing with first, if he survived that long. He thought of his brother, Kaltag, back in Priagust, probably wondering where he was and if Jack was still staring over the lake, waiting for the day Sevon would appear.
Jack’s heart thumped.
“Louis is gone. I am the king now, and you will answer to me. My sources tell me you’re a spy from the shifter land of Priagust,” he said. The accusation did not bode well for Jack.
Jack took his stand against his captor. He strained against his shackles and grinned through the searing pain in his shoulder blades. “Your sources are clearly mistaken. I was only fishing when your men emerged from the lake and tried to drown me. Which—” He glanced around, and his shackles rattled. “This is some level of hell, correct?” Jack watched him, still puzzling his way through recollections. It wasn’t possible he was Sevon. Why would Sevon become this? He hissed a laugh and kept up a brave face. Jack turned his gaze up. He smirked when the king leaned away from the hammered iron bars of Jack’s cell in disgusted horror. “You are a very fussy bird. You’re no more than a chick, peeping for nourishment.”
“You will answer my questions, shifter…. Or you will be forced to answer them.”
“What kind of king do you think you are?” Jack asked. “Do you understand the scope of what you are doing by holding me like a criminal?”
“Pardon me for not rolling out the red carpet and most lovely courtesans,” he said sarcastically.
“A little bird that pecks. I like that.” Jack chuckled.
Crossing his willowy arms in irritation, the king nodded to the stocky dungeon guard.
The guard loped forward on his gnarled legs and slipped the heavy key in the iron padlock. With a protesting shrill, the bolt popped from its moorings with a loud echoing clank. The cell door swung open with an antiquated creak, and colorful bird of a man slipped into the cell.
Jack’s heart thumped, and his face heated. It was Sevon. His Sevon. He had never been so sure. In the twenty-two years between then and now, the boy Jack had so longed for no longer existed. Confusion swirled through him, but Jack had to keep it within. More parts of the puzzle would fall into place if he just gave it time.
His heart wouldn’t stop racing; all the while he maintained his arrogant grin.
“I’d curtsey, but as you can see, I’m a little tied up,” Jack apologized.
This new Sevon cocked his hip in irritation and snorted. “For a vicious animal, you don’t look like much.”
The term hit Jack hard, but he wouldn’t cower.
“Funny.” Jack chuckled. “For a king, you present yourself quite a bit like a whore.”
Before he could blink, Sevon was upon him. He yanked Jack by the scruff of his hair, tilting his neck painfully backward on its stalk to meet him eye to eye. Jack’s eyes rolled wildly to focus on the glacier blue of Sevon’s. His scent stabbed into Jack’s nose, jabbing cruelly into his brain. The delicate floral became an unrelenting assault on his mind and body. The damning confirmation sank into Jack’s stomach. It was a matter of survival not to show fascination or fear.
“Listen to me, you worthless shit-eating maggot!” Sevon snarled in his face. “You don’t get to call me a whore! Do you understand? I will leave you here to rot in this dank cell until even the rats find you too foul and putrescent. You will be thankful we don’t outright kill you. You will be appreciative of your accommodations.”
Sevon relaxed his grip and his harsh tone eased. “You will be eager to answer our questions. You will make yourself very helpful. Or I will have you skinned alive and your flesh made into jerky.” Sevon snorted a breath through his nose, and Jack’s hair fluttered. The beautiful blond man smiled like a content feline. “Now, do we have an understanding?”
Channeling the bravest parts of himself, and locking away the heartbreak, Jack laughed with a crooked, toothy grin. If this was the game, then he would play it until he was the last one standing. Finally, he had sorted the second male scent, and his thoughts sparked with devious delight. “Did I ruffle your feathers, meadowlark? Does the man whose scent you’re slathered in get to ruffle more than your feathers?”
Sevon shoved him away with a wail of disgust. Jack’s head bounced against his chest, and his manacles creaked at the added pressure. Sevon’s offended squeal was the only warning as a hard, echoing slap cracked across Jack’s cheek so forcefully that his vision blew out into whiteness for a moment.
With several flustered breaths, Sevon sharply pivoted and then stormed out of the cell. He nodded to the stocky guard. “Have him questioned about the nature of his people and land. I don’t care how you do it, or to what ends. Use any means necessary to milk him dry.”
The guard bobbed his head and bowed.
Turning back, Sevon regarded Jack one final time.
Jack noted the confusion mingled with a semblance of fascination. He forced a smile through his blood-tinged teeth. “See you soon, Your Majesty,” he purred.
Jack clung to a scrap of hope, and listened to the whispers of Sevon’s skirts as he left Jack in the darkness.
The rats chittered.
About The Author:
Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” She knew then she wanted to make the world a little more interesting too.
Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure and epic love—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes if you’re going to going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love.
Lex is a pop culture diva and her DVR is constantly backlogged. She wouldn’t last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind. She is incredibly sentimental, to the point that she gets choked up at holiday commercials. But like the lovers driven to extreme measures to get home for the holidays, Lex believes everyone deserves a happy ending.
Lex also has a knack for sarcasm, never takes herself seriously, and has been nicknamed “The Next Alan Moore” by her friends for all the pain and suffering she inflicts on her characters. She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine now residing in the burbs of Northwest Florida, where it could be 80F and she’d still be a popsicle.
She is grateful for and humbled by all the readers. She knows very well she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them and welcomes feedback.
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