A druid sworn to protect and nurture.
Leigh Simon, a druidic healer, lives a peaceful existence
among her nomadic tribe. She practices the healing arts and communes with the
earth—until her estranged mother’s death turns Leigh’s life upside down. Leigh
is now heir to her mother’s worldly possessions, including one dark, brooding
demon.
A demon sworn
to revenge.
Taren’s rage against witches is all that keeps him going.
Forced into the beholden vow, magically binding him to the witches’ Guild of
Assassins, he bides his time until he can find a way to break the vow. The key to his freedom comes in the form
of one curvaceous female who knows nothing about
the violence, hatred, and fear his kind
has lived through.
A hunt to
the death.
Leigh’s shocked at the brutality Taren endures at the hand of
the Isis Guild of Assassins. The only way to right the wrong is to enter an antiquated, lethal challenge called The
Hunt. If they can evade a deadly squad of assassins for twenty-four hours,
they’re home free—something no one has done for hundreds of years—and falling
in love only makes the need to survive steeper. Now, they’re not just fighting
for Taren’s freedom, they’re fighting for love.
EXCERPT
“She spoke of you, her child, and the hard choice to send you
away from her and the guild she’d tied herself to. She’d wanted you to have a
life free of blood and death. She spoke of sensing in you a strong magic, one which could be used for good or bad. She refused to have you used as a
weapon, and she believed the Guild of Isis would have made you a weapon for
their own gain. Instead, she chose someone who would train you in the ways of
peace and nurturing. She instructed your
Amaya to raise you as one of her own. To guide your mind and magic to their
tenants and oppress the darker aspects of
your power. I wanted to question her about you, for the first time seeing the
real female and not the cold-blooded assassin. Sadly, it was not to be. She
refused to say more about you, but the glimpse she gave me softened my wrath
toward her. Anyone who could love and sacrifice for their child did have a soul
worth salvaging.”
Tears ran unchecked down Leigh’s cheeks, and her throat
tightened with the emotion rising from a deeply buried part of her soul. There
was still that little child crying out for her mother. Always wondering what
her mother found lacking in her which caused her to abandon her so easily. The
knowledge worked like a healing balm, soothing the pain and giving her closure
and peace. She held the truth close to her breast, absorbing it into her very
essence.
Her mother had loved her and sacrificed to see her raised in a
culture which cherished all life. The revelation was not lost on her.
With great care, Taren lightly brushed away the tears with his
fingers before cupping her face and tilting her head up to meet his gaze head
on. “So beautiful, tasa meela.”
His deep voice held a husky note, sending a cascade of warmth through her,
sweeping over her breasts and down to the juncture between her legs.
“What does that mean?” Her question came out in a breathless
whisper as his heat caressed her, building a pulsing need hammering through
her.
“The closest translation in your words is ‘bright spirit’.”
Taren drew nearer touching his forehead to hers and stroking
her cheek with gentle fingers.
“Oh, I like that,” Leigh
whispered, placing her hand over his.
Time froze for one perfect moment as they stood poised on the brink of a precipice she sensed there
would be no coming back from.
“My mind tells me this is wrong, what is between us. Still, my
soul cries out for you, your body a sweet siren’s
song I must follow.”
Her breath caught on his
words, her heart opening to him. She was dangerously close to falling in love
with him, just as she knew she could trust him with her heart and soul, her
very life.
Everything about him and her
felt…right. Not wrong as he argued.
She drew away just enough to stare up into his beautiful dark
eyes, missing the swirl of red she spied that morning in their dark depths.
“I am yours to take, Taren. I have never before felt such a
pull. All that I am calls out for you too.” To lend power to her words, she
reached out fingers sinking into thick golden strands of his hair. She marveled
in the silkiness before lightly tracing his tightly curved horns.
On a shudder, his eyes closed, his breathing labored as she
stroked them. Who knew a Demosian’s s horns could be so sensitive?
BUY LINK:
WEBSITE:
FACEBOOK:
BLOG
No comments:
Post a Comment