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Taurus’s Quest

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Book Cover: Taurus's Quest
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Part of the The Thirteenth Zodiac series:
  • The Thirteenth Zodiac (Books 1 – 3)
  • Legend of Scorpio
  • Sins of Leo
  • Capture of Capricorn
  • Taurus’s Quest

He’s not bull-rushing into love.

An asteroid is on a collision course with Earth, but no one will listen to Circe; they claim her data and theory are wrong. Only Taurus takes her seriously, but she has her doubts a man—even one who calls himself a Zodiac Warrior—can do anything to prevent the disaster. She becomes even more skeptical when he claims they must go on a quest to recreate an ancient artifact.

However, with time running out, what other choice does Circe have but to trust the handsome man who shows her magic truly exists?
Together, they will embark on a quest into the mythical Labyrinth, where they will pit their wits and skills against perils in their path and race the clock while trying to create the one thing that can save them.

Will it be enough, or will Circe have to break Taurus’ heart to save humanity?

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Available on: 2025-10-16
Cover Artists:
Do Elle Designs
Genres:
Action and Adventure, alien romance, killer hero, Sci-Fi Romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

The doom of civilization began the moment the avatar for the Ophiuchus constellation finally escaped its dark void prison. Its series of stars, nestled in the Milky Way, started glowing brighter, not that most people noticed or cared.

Astronomers, who watched the night sky on a regular basis, did wonder why the Thirteenth Zodiac suddenly shone more clearly than before. However, their interest in it quickly waned as something more astonishing occurred.

READ MORE

From the Milky Way, whose spinning arms contained a multitude of solar systems, emerged an interstellar object. An asteroid, not an alien ship, to the dismay of many. Still, despite it not being a UAP, the rare occurrence did rouse curiosity. To date, only two other interstellar objects had ever been observed entering Earth’s solar system. The first, a cigar-shaped rock in 2017 that was named ‘Oumuamua. It caused great excitement among observers, as it demonstrated non-gravitational acceleration, which led many to theorize it might have actually been an extraterrestrial craft with a propulsion system. However, the scientific community explained that this phenomenon was likely due to internal gases combusting.

The second object, the Borisov comet, appeared in 2019 and didn’t garner nearly as much attention, as it obeyed the laws scientists thought set in stone and its trajectory took it out of Earth’s solar system.

All this to show the rarity of interstellar objects, meaning the third one in such a short time frame had astronomers in a tizzy, especially since, like ‘Oumuamua, it had varying orbital characteristics—like a comet—yet was confirmed through spectroscopy to be comprised of rocky materials—making it an asteroid.

While many drooled at the thought of getting samples, they had to content themselves with tracking and capturing images because the modelling showed it wouldn’t come anywhere close to Earth. A good thing, since, given its size, an impact with the surface of the planet would have been catastrophic.

Only one person predicted it would shift course, not that anyone believed her.

Those within the rocketing asteroid made sure of that.

 

Chapter 1

“…and that is how we ended up saving Tower and acquiring a thirteenth warrior.” Aries concluded his summary to a drop-jawed Taurus.

Apparently, the months Taurus spent hunting a misbehaving werewolf meant he missed a mega battle. Bummer. He’d have much preferred to be pitting his skills against mercenaries than stalking the smelly canine that led him on a merry chase through the untamed forests of Hungary. Even worse, in the end, he’d not even been the one to kill the rabid beast. That honor went to the werewolf’s wife, who’d invested in some silver bullets when she realized her husband had been the one killing all their neighbors. When the hairy bastard brazenly returned home, he met his fatal end.

With the mission complete, Taurus returned to Tower for some R&R, where not only did he get to hear all about the epic fight he’d missed, but he also got to meet Aries and Sage’s baby girl. Tiny little thing, kind of boring if you asked him, unlike Leo’s talkative—and spooky at times—daughter, Olivia.

A kid who suddenly looked at him from across the dining room table and said, “Uncy Taurus, you should shave.”

The comment led to Taurus stroking the splendid beard that had grown wild during his absence. “I thought you liked my beard.” Upon seeing it, Olivia had clapped her hands and demanded her daddy grow one just as bushy.

“I do, but the green lady won’t.” An announcement that drew the attention of everyone gathered to eat breakfast.

The usually gruff Leo used a pussy-soft voice to ask, “What green lady?”

Rather than reply to that query, Olivia held out her hand. “Can I have another piece of bacon, please?”

Sage snagged a strip and handed it over while cradling her newborn to her chest. “Olivia, can you tell us about the green lady?”

“She needs help.”

“What kind of help? Is she in trouble? Did you have a vision?” Sage used to be their only seer until Leo reunited with his missing daughter. Turned out Olivia had the gift, too, but she’d yet to learn to control it and thus tended to blurt out the most random things, such as telling him he should be practicing his sword skills—as if he wasn’t a master with his weapon of choice already.

“I saw the green lady in my dream last night. Her and Uncy Taurus,” Olivia said in between chewing her strip of bacon.

“What were they doing?” Thankfully Sage possessed more patience than Taurus. He only held back from barking at the kid because doing so would likely lead to Leo pummeling his face to a pulp.

“They was arguing.”

“About what?” Sage kept doing her best to draw out answers.

“I don’t remember. Just that Uncy Taurus is gonna help because no one believes her.”

“Believes her about what?” Leo took over questioning since the baby began to fuss.

Olivia’s nose wrinkled. “Dunno. Couldn’t see that part. But I think you need to find something.”

“And you’re sure it’s me who helps her?” Taurus couldn’t help but sound dubious because he really didn’t seem like the right choice in a mission that required detective work. He tended to be more likely to lose things than find them.

“Yes, you. There’s gonna be monsters, so make sure you bring your sword,” Olivia exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.

Twice now she’d mentioned his favorite weapon, which prompted Taurus to ask, “Where do I find this green lady?”

“In the library.”

“Um, can you be more specific?” Leo queried. “There’s a lot of libraries in the world.”

“Ours, silly.” Olivia snickered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait, the green lady is inside Tower?” Taurus exclaimed, rising from his chair.

“Not yet. I gotta pee.” Olivia suddenly slid from her chair and raced away, leaving the adults to stare at each other in confusion.

“How is a random stranger going to end up in our library?” Aries mused aloud.

“You know Tower likes to collect strays,” Sage reminded as she rubbed the baby’s back.

The magical and sentient structure acted as a home and base for the Zodiac Warriors, but they weren’t the only inhabitants. Although, it should be noted, the warriors never ran into the others. Tower did an excellent job keeping them apart.

“Guess I’ll be camping out in the library until this green lady shows up.” Taurus grimaced. After months of sleeping on the hard ground, he’d been looking forward to snoozing in his bed.

“I don’t think we need to be that drastic. Olivia didn’t give a timeframe. Could be today, tomorrow, a month from now,” Aries noted, but he wore a frown.

“I’m thinking it won’t be long, since Olivia advised me to shave,” Taurus remarked, stroking his beard. Should he remove it? Nah, he’d grown attached, and it was much too epic to toss by the wayside. Besides, why should he care if this green lady would hate it?

“I say the sooner, the better. That bird’s nest on your chin is hideous.”

“Hey!” Taurus glared at Capricorn, who shrugged.

“Just saying it like it is. Right, Zora?” Capricorn glanced at the woman who’d been sitting quietly beside him.

Lots had changed since Taurus left for his mission. Capricorn now had a girlfriend, but not just anyone. During Aries’ summary of events while he’d been gone, Taurus learned Zora was a Zodiac Warrior. Kind of shocking considering they’d never realized a thirteenth ever existed. Even more astonishing, she was the first female one.

Zora shook her head. “Don’t you dare drag me into this.”

“Actually, I want to know. I mean, you’re a woman. Is my splendid beard really that bad?” Taurus gave her his most winsome smile.

Zora shrugged. “Not up to me if I like it or not.”

Before Taurus could continue to pester her, one of the other new residents spoke up. “I will say, personally, I prefer clean shaven.” Dr. Ruth Warmstone’s lips curved into a smile. She side-eyed her paramour, Leo, before adding, “Less chin burn.”

The comment led to Leo’s face turning beet red. “I’m going to check on Olivia.” The man sprang from his chair and sprinted out of the dining room to Ruth’s snickers.

“That was naughty of you,” Sage chided with a smile.

“I can’t resist,” Ruth replied with a laugh.

Zora stood. “I do believe it’s time for my next training lesson also known as my daily ass whooping.”

“Soon, you’ll be the one kicking my butt,” Capricorn promised as they left.

“Guess that’s my cue that I should get to work, too.” Aries stood, and Sage held out the baby.

“Mind taking Little Bean? I’m going to try for a nap.”

“Sure thing.” Aries glanced at Taurus. “Keep me in the loop about the green lady.”

“Will-do, boss.”

“Hold up, Sage, I’ll walk you to our suite.” Aries cradled the baby to his chest and waited for his wife.

“Go ahead. I’m going to chat with Taurus for a minute before heading up.” She waved Aries away and then proceeded to stare at Taurus. He fidgeted under the intent scrutiny.

Sage sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m too exhausted to see anything. Little Bean’s been waking every two hours at night for feeding.”

“Don’t worry about it. At least Olivia offered some warning, and I’m sure Tower will give me a nudge when I need to deal with the intruder.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Sage countered. “Could be Tower welcomes her inside.”

“In that case, guess I’ll be spending some time in the library.” Which sounded like loads of fun. NOT! “Since you’re tired, want me to run you up the stairs?” The steep and winding steps could be arduous.

Sage shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but no need. Tower will transport me. It’s been most helpful in my recovery.”

“Wish it would do the same for me after leg day,” he muttered. Nothing like walking numerous flights of stairs with burning thighs.

Sage left, and Taurus sat a moment longer, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Guess you won’t be getting any time to relax,” Ruth remarked.

“Ah, I’ve never been one to remain idle for long,” he replied to the psychologist before instantly regretting it. He’d like to skip over a session of psychoanalysis. He was much more suited to action, hence his preference for spending his spare time in the gym honing his skills and bulking his muscles, instead of loitering in the library, a place he’d not visited in ages. He’d never been a fan of reading, mostly because it involved sitting still and looking at words—so many words.

Speaking of which… He stood from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to reacquaint myself with the repository of books up there.” The library sat one level above the dining hall and took only seconds to reach since Taurus bounded up the steps three at a time.

He entered the space and immediately grimaced at the sight of all the books. Made him wonder what the green lady would be looking for. Probably something rare or out of print but not so scarce Tower wouldn’t have a copy.

Colorful spines that spanned an entire shelf caught his eye, and he hunched to read the titles. Legend of Scorpio. Sins of Leo. Capture of Capricorn.

Snort. While he’d heard of the books that detailed each Zodiac sigil’s exploits, he’d never checked them out before. His gaze hit the one labelled Taurus’ Quest. Well damn. Could have sworn his used to have a different title.

Having never bothered reading it, he suddenly decided, why not take a peek? Only the book refused to slide out from its tightly wedged spot. He pulled harder, but it wouldn’t budge. Ah, well. He didn’t need to read about how great the previous Taurus used to be, and he well remembered his own successful adventures.

Getting to his feet, he glanced around to refresh himself on the layout. The outer wall held a single window covered in a heavy curtain. When he pulled it aside for a glance, he noticed no easy way of entering unless someone could somehow scale smooth stone. The only other entrance was the door he’d entered.

To reach the library, this green lady would have to first enter Tower, which led to the question, how would she arrive in the first place? Only those with the Zodiac blessing could find Tower, let alone see it. Forget getting here by normal means, AKA by car or on foot. A journey via land involved trekking through some harsh terrain lacking roads, but it wasn’t impossible. Aries said the mercenaries who’d recently attacked had managed the trip using UTVs.

Technically, a helicopter would make for an easy journey, but that would require a pilot not flying blindly past. Tower protected against intruders by encircling itself with a camouflage that few could penetrate, which led to him contemplating what Aries claimed about the recent invasion. Apparently, some dude had found a way to bring down Tower’s shield. While those mercenaries had been defeated, Taurus had to wonder if the Tower had returned to being as impenetrable as before.

The most common way folks entered Tower was via the portal room. That magical space contained daises inscribed with the sigils of the Zodiac, which allowed the warriors the ability to quickly return home. Apart from the daises, there were also some arches that led to several locations around the world. Could be this woman would intentionally, or accidentally, step through one. Unlikely, given they weren’t accessible to the public. A few even had guards, like the one Libra watched over.

However, the teleporting arches remained the most likely point of entry for an intruder. Maybe he should camp out by the portal room so he could waylay this green lady before she infiltrated too far.

First, though, a workout, followed by a shower and then a flop onto his comfy, king-sized bed where’d he enjoy a twelve… No, make that sixteen-hour sleep. Might as well squeeze one in before the lady arrived.

The workout left his body sore, but in a good way. Sweaty, too. He skipped Olivia’s shaving advice and jumped right into a hot shower which did much to ease his muscles. He’d only begun rinsing the suds from his flesh when the water abruptly ceased flowing. He glanced at the showerhead, frowned, wiggled the taps. Nothing. What the hell?

“Tower, mind turning the water back on?”

No reply. Tower didn’t really speak in words, but it had ways of communicating. Not in this instance, though. Taurus sighed as he wrapped a towel around his hips before hitting the hall outside his room in the hopes someone else’s apartment had a working shower. Only the moment he stepped outside his place, he found himself staring at blank walls.

As in, no doors. Not even his own.

Still clutching his damp towel around his hips, Taurus glared at the smooth wall. “Not funny, Tower. Let me back in.”

Nothing changed, so he sighed. “Okay, Tower, what do you need from me?”

A shove from behind had him whirling to see the hall behind had disappeared. The new wall in its place nudged him toward the stairs.

“Subtle, Tower, real subtle,” Taurus grumbled as he began heading down.

And down.

The landings for the floors beneath his apartment had disappeared, leaving only the winding stairs that ended, no surprise, on the library level. Guess their guest had arrived—and at a most inopportune moment.

“Dude,” he groaned. “Can’t I at least put on some pants first?”

None appeared.

Guess he’d be meeting the green lady a little more naked than usual—and he didn’t mean just lacking clothes. No gun, sword, not even his pocketknife.

Sigh. “If I die, I hope it’s bloody and takes you forever to clean the mess,” he grumbled before stalking into the library.

Chapter 2

The simulation ran using the most up-to-date information on planetary positions. Circe leaned forward and watched as the screen plotted the trajectory for the asteroid that emerged from the Milky Way. Once more, the software showed it avoiding Earth.

Good, right?

Not for Circe, who’d been trying to prove an ancient mechanism of tracking astral events was just as accurate as their modern instruments. Again and again, the two systems showed much different results.

Circe huffed and leaned back in her seat.

Andreas, who worked in another department but seemed to always find a reason to be around, paused by her desk. “Ready to give up?”

“Just about,” she grumbled.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting time trying to prove we’re in dire danger based on what a relic indicated. A device manufactured more than a thousand years ago isn’t capable of being as precise as our monitoring systems.” Everyone in the National Observatory of Athens had heard of her presentation, where she’d put forth her—according to them, wild—theory that the asteroid named 8675309 Odyssey would shift its course due to a subtle shift in planetary positions and collide with Earth. There’d been laughter at her claim because, according to the other astronomers, even if the Milky Way had changed the force it exerted on their solar system due to the recently changed Ophiuchus constellation, it would take a long, long time before any noticeable movement in planets occurred.

Circe pursed her lips. “Our computers are only as smart as the data we feed them.”

“Data that is refreshed daily,” he reminded.

“Collected by computers with pre-set programming, meaning it’s not infallible.”

A comment that led to him snorting. “More accurate than this anchor thingy that you’re obsessed with. I don’t know why you’d believe it over what our telescopes and satellites can detect.”

“It’s called the Antikythera mechanism, and despite the differences between it and our data, I disagree. Whoever built it”—the original creator was unknown—“had an understanding of the cosmos that defies explanation. They were well ahead of their time.”

“A time long past,” Andreas scoffed. “I’d suggest you stick to modern science. Or don’t. It’s your job on the line, not mine.”

Not just her job, though. Circe bit her lip rather than blurt out her dire prediction that if they were wrong about the data, then asteroid 8675309 would cause a catastrophic event rivalling that of the one that killed the dinosaurs. Andreas had already mocked her enough for her theory. “I’m supposed to seek out threats to Earth from our solar system.”

“What threat? Every simulation we’ve run shows the asteroid is set to pass us by. The sun’s not showing signs of emitting any solar flares of note. What’s left? Little green men?”

“Don’t you mean gray?” she riposted, annoyed at Andreas, mostly because it fed into her doubt. Was she wasting her time? She’d been studying the Antikythera mechanism for months now. Even had a replica of one at home that did what it claimed. Predicted eclipses and planetary positions. Until recently, it had been spot-on. That all changed, though, when Ophiuchus began shining brighter. Since then, its results had been diverging from their collected data.

The sudden difference bothered. It didn’t help that everyone she’d shown it pointed out the age of the mechanical artifact and the fact the replicas of the device were based on an incomplete model. The original Antikythera mechanism, the size of a shoe box with intricate gears and dials that showed a precision that should have been impossible for its time, had been found in a sunken ship. Only a third of the mechanism was salvaged, but those who rebuilt it claimed they’d figured out the missing parts. Could be they’d not rebuilt it correctly, hence why she got differing results. Alas, the original plans for the device had never been recovered, so no one could be sure if the replicas were exact.

“Give your history project a rest and join us for some drinks,” Andreas suggested. “There’s going to be a live band playing at the bar down the street.”

“Not tonight. I need to feed my cat.” A lie. She didn’t own a cat, but without a proper excuse, Andreas would keep pressuring.

“And this is why I have no pets or children. I like my freedom.” Andreas laughed as he strode off. A handsome man, but much too arrogant and annoying for her to even contemplate dating. Not to mention, she valued her job more than a fling.

However, he did have a point. She needed a break.

She logged off and grabbed her things, slipping on her green cloak, an item she’d splurged on when she saw it in a shop selling vintage clothing. It covered her head to toe, the deep cowl of it welcome on rainy and windy days. She headed off on foot, her apartment being only a seventeen-minute walk—when she could travel the most direct route.

A grimace crossed her face as she noticed the road and sidewalk she used daily had been closed for construction since she’d left her apartment that morning. The inaccessibility led to her having to veer onto a side street that looked much like her own. Tightly constructed buildings, of which the main floor of some were given over to businesses, with the upper levels being used for residential dwellings.

As she strolled, a sudden clap of thunder drew her attention to the dark clouds overhead. She quickened her step, hoping to make it home before the storm unleashed. Alas, she remained still a good ten-minute walk from her place, seven maybe if she ran, when the droplets began falling. Not wanting to get soaked by the deluge, she ducked into the nearest shop. A tiny bell over the door announced her presence.

No one stood behind the counter cluttered with bins and a cash register, but she could hear a male talking to someone out of sight in the back. To bide time while the rain fell heavily, she began to browse the aisles of the eclectic shop that appeared to only carry Zodiac-themed items. Shelves held various figurines meant to represent each sigil. Aries, with his curled horns. Pisces, the fish. Taurus, the bull. Plaques placed in front of different sets indicated the artists who’d created the models. Beyond those displays, a row full of placards and windchimes, again inscribed either with a specific symbol or all of them in a wheel.

What an interesting store, and how surprising she’d never visited. The stars that comprised the Zodiac had been one of her first obsessions as a young girl. Her parents had gifted her a telescope at Christmas, and she spent many a night out on their balcony aiming it at the sky, locating each and every constellation. It turned out to be an obsession she never grew out of, hence why she ended up getting her degree in astronomy, which led to her job at the observatory.

As she browsed books in the rearmost section, the lights suddenly went out. Bells tinkled, indicating someone opened the door, and the distinct thump indicated it had been shut, but more ominous? The click of someone engaging a lock.

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Taming My Human

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Book Cover: Taming My Human
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Part of the The Dragocracy Chronicles series:
  • Training My Human
  • Serving My Dragon
  • Taming My Human

Can a loner be the hero they need?

Being a grumpy ex-soldier means I like being alone. What better place for solitude, far from home and bad memories, than a remote chalet in Italy? Peace and quiet, just what I need to write my next book. You know what they say about best laid plans, right? Somehow I end sheltering a single mom on the run with her kid—and a talking lizard.

How the hell did that happen?

Guess being ornery doesn’t mean I lack a heart because I end up offering them refuge.

Nicky and her toddler, escaping an abusive situation and looking for a fresh start.

Percy, the reptile who turns out to be a dragon and needs constant feeding and protection.

For some reason, they trust me. Me, the man who can’t even sleep through the night.

Then again, who else better to safeguard than a man who’s not afraid to act? I might have retired from action, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to track down the enemy and make them pay.

If you dare to threaten those I care about, I promise, it will be the last thing you do.

* * *


Lucky me, I’ve found not one but two humans to serve me. Although the big male will take some taming before he shows me the proper respect. But I think he’ll be worth the effort. After all, when I need him most, he risks his life without hesitation. As he should. Because after all, there is no one more important than me.



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Available on: 2026-01-08
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
dark humor, killer hero, Paranormal Romance, single mom
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

Abaddon’s narrow gaze fixed with irritation on the gray-haired man hunched over his computer. Name of Malone, the doctor had mistakenly thought he could control and even experiment on dragons. The nerve! He’d since been taught the error of his ways and now found himself a prisoner.

A prisoner that still lacked respect.

Despite being captured and forced to work for Abaddon—the greatest dragon in the world—the wretched scientist persisted in being surly, uncooperative, and just plain annoying.

READ MORE

For example, despite Abaddon’s demand for a full list of volcanoes that had been tampered with—unnaturally forced to erupt—Malone avoided giving a direct reply. Instead, he posed his own question. “Why would you want to know about the cones that failed to react to the protocol?” In other words, volcanoes that didn’t blow their top. Malone also fell back on, “Why waste your time checking out the places that didn’t produce a dragon?”

Because Abaddon wanted to be sure no eggs had hatched. The fact Malone and his subordinates hadn’t detected a dragon at these supposed failed attempts didn’t mean one of his kind hadn’t emerged from its shell. And even if the suspected dragon hadn’t matured, Abaddon still wanted it. A collection of potential rivals had some appeal.

“Stop being difficult and hand over the locations of the volcanoes you tampered with,” Abaddon commanded.

“Or what? Kill me and you won’t get any answers.”

Nostrils steamed as irritation boiled within, fueling a belly full of flames. How easy it would be to incinerate Malone into a smoldering pile of ash. However, Abaddon had to restrain himself because, while annoying, the man with the silvery temples held a veritable treasure trove of knowledge in his head. Pity cracking open his skull and slurping his brains wouldn’t transfer that information. It had been tried to no avail in the past.

“You seem to forget I can make your life unpleasant,” Abaddon pointed out.

“It already is, so you can stop with the threats. Why don’t you go bother Leo? He’s the one who paid for the operation,” a surly Malone reminded without even turning to look at him. Such disregard for Abaddon’s royal presence.

Ah yes, Leo. A man who’d initially been partnered with Malone in their quest for hatching dragons. He’d since been shown the error of his ways. Once Leo met Abaddon—and narrowly missed being turned into a crispy kebab—he couldn’t fawn hard enough, or as Abaddon’s first servant, Pip, liked to say, “He’s got his nose shoved so deep up your ass, it’s a wonder he can breathe.”

She did have a point, even if her delivery lacked eloquence. Leo worshipped dragons. Would do anything to serve, including signing over his home, property, and wealth. Because of Leo’s bestowal, Abaddon now owned a sizeable hoard, even if he couldn’t actually touch it. The modern world relied quite a bit on virtual currency, as opposed to more concrete items like the gold and jewels dragons usually preferred.

“You know very well Leo can’t access the files since you slapped a password on them,” Abaddon grumbled. The man had appeared shocked—and cursed quite a bit—when he tried to show Abaddon all he and Malone had discovered only to find himself locked out.

“Did I?” Malone quipped, his tone slightly mocking.

Teeth gnashing did little to stem Abaddon’s irritation. “One day, I’m going to forget the fact you’re a brilliant scientist and eat you.”

The comment finally had Malone half turning to offer a hate-filled glare. “I hope you choke on my bones when you do.”

Given the fruitlessness of the conversation, Abaddon left Malone chained to his desk—quite literally, since the man couldn’t be trusted. There’d been incidents, such as the time he tried to flood the habitat which, due to some built-in safety protocols, would have forced open all the doors.

The untrustworthy doctor would be unshackled and removed from the lab around dinnertime, when Maddox or Pip would relocate him for the rest of the night to his cell, a simple room with only the basics. Cruel? Not really, given Malone had initially planned to imprison Abaddon and experiment on him.

Again, Abaddon couldn’t believe the utter gall of a human thinking they could poke and prod a dragon by force. Meanwhile, had Malone politely asked and explained he wanted tissue samples and measurements to better understand a dragon’s greatness, Abaddon might have agreed. After all, he, too, was curious about what particular characteristics were unique to his kind.

As Abaddon trudged from the lab on four mighty paws, his girth barely fitting through the door frame, he ran into Pip. Dear, sweet Pip. His very first servant. A human woman in her third decade with silvery hair and artwork inked all over her body. She could be mouthy, but he forgave it because she always spoke honestly and had proven herself loyal.

“Hey, Big Fella,” she said, greeting him with his new nickname since he’d finally grown sizeable enough that using the word “little” would have been an insult. “Glad I found you. You’ve got someone waiting to chat on video.”

“Who?” he asked with casual nonchalance even as excitement filled him. He only ever received calls from one particular individual.

“It’s your girlfriend,” Pip sang, giving him a wink.

“Pollita is not my girlfriend,” Abaddon huffed. Although, she was currently the top contender for future maternal progenitor when he decided to fertilize some eggs. She was also the only other dragon in existence, that he knew of, and she currently lived in South America, a whole continent away. Not that distance mattered. Already he could fly vast stretches without rest.

Soon, very soon, they would meet in the flesh.

“Whatever you say,” Pip chirped. “Anyhow, your not-girlfriend is on the big screen by your chaise.”

“I guess I should see what she wants,” was his nonchalant reply as he made his way over to said seat. Abaddon’s current location, an underground complex of vast size, had been originally meant to serve as a luxury prison—the luxurious part being against Malone’s wishes. The scientist had thought a simple large cell with restraints would be suitable, but Leo, who’d long loved and been obsessed with dragons, insisted on a more lavish space. Since Abaddon had captured Malone and converted Leo, it turned out the underground installation actually suited him better than the main floor of the ranch house overhead. The massive dome with branching chambers held everything Abaddon could need. Aerial perches. A stocked pond big enough for a growing dragon to float. Furniture meant to hold his increasing girth. Overhead, bay doors could slide open, allowing him to leave and stretch his wings in flight. It also gave him the opportunity to hunt. The land all around held abundant wildlife as well as herds of goats, cattle, and sheep.

Not wanting to appear too eager, Abaddon took his time strutting to the well-stuffed chair that offered a comfortable seat for a dragon his size. Almost as big as a bull, he’d been eating well since his hatching. Even better of late, now that he could truly hunt larger specimens. As a result, he’d been shedding often as his flesh expanded.

Upon seating himself on what he liked to think of as his throne, Abaddon allowed his gaze to settle on the large, suspended screen displaying the female, Pollita. She appeared quite fetching, her growth not as drastic as his—a female trait—but she’d been maturing. Just look at those sexy nubs pushing up from the crown of her head.

“Hey, Abba,” she crooned upon seeing him. It should be noted, only she got away with that ridiculous shortening of his chosen name.

“I assume there is a reason for your call.” Dragons didn’t play around with words like humans and tended to jump right to the point.

“I was bored,” she admitted. “It’s been storming the past few days.”

“Afraid to get wet?” he teased.

“More like everything yummy is hiding. The only good thing about this weather is I’ve been charging up on all the lovely lightning bolts,” she admitted. While Abaddon possessed the gift of fire—the kind that could melt almost anything—Pollita inherited that of electricity.

“It’s still cold here. The snow’s now several feet deep all over.” Apparently, winter would last a few more months. Just his luck to be hatched in a country that spent half the year suffering from frigid temperatures.

“I can’t wait to visit you. I’m so tired of doing nothing.”

“Dragons aren’t supposed to do anything. That’s what servants are for,” he reminded.

“My humans have been catering to my every need. Even the ones I didn’t know I had. It’s making me feel quite useless,” she grumbled.

Abaddon masked his expression to hide his jealousy. His own retinue remained rather sparse given the fact Pip thought they needed to be discreet about who learned about his existence. Pollita, on the other claw, had lucked out. Her first servant, a Peruvian named Mathias, came with a rather large family who’d been eager to pledge devotion to Pollita. “What is it exactly you wish to do?”

“Something. Anything!” Pollita exclaimed. “I want a meaningful task. Something that will advance us towards our goal of world domination.” A feat all dragons strove for.

“We’ve already begun the steps,” he reminded. They’d been investing their wealth in something called stocks, a way to apparently gain control of human industries. With enough ownership came power, with power came influence, with influence came the eventual revelation that dragons existed. Once that secret was unveiled, they would begin the conversion of the population from obeying human mismanaged governments to dragon rule. Or as he liked to call it, Dragocracy.

“I know we have, but it’s such a slow and utterly dull process,” she lamented, pouting prettily, not something he was used to seeing from the usually happy dragoness.

His muzzle pursed. “You haven’t shed recently.” He pinpointed the real reason for her discontent. Hormones.

“No, I haven’t,” she sulked. “I don’t understand. I’ve been eating so well and yet it’s been weeks since my last molt.”

“It’s coming,” he promised. “Females have ever been slower to grow.”

“So unfair,” Pollita grumbled. “Here you are, hatched after me, and yet look at you. Much larger already.”

She’d noticed? He casually expanded his chest. “Your growth will come.”

A sigh huffed from her, the heat of it momentarily misting the camera. “I know. I’m just impatient. On to other matters. Have you had any luck with the locations of the other eggs from our spawning?”

According to Leo, who’d uncovered some ancients scrolls, their maternal progenitor had allowed a human scribe to note where she’d dropped her eggs. Although “note” was being generous. The clues left behind were vague, saying things such as “where the mountains rise and touch the clouds” and “overlook a lake with serpentine creatures”. It didn’t help that it had been eons since those references had been penned and the landscapes that once might have seemed distinctive had changed.

“Leo’s been working on the clues and has come up with some possible locations.”

“As have my servants,” Pollita interjected. “But we won’t know if their theories are correct until we find an actual egg.”

“Hence why I’ve begun a subtle effort to recruit people to scout those locations.” So subtle, Abaddon didn’t have anyone yet, but he wasn’t about to let Pollita know that he’d been lax about forming a scouting team.

“You really think a human can tell a dragon egg from a regular rock?” she scoffed.

“Probably not. Most likely, once I get to be a proper size, I shall go hunt for them myself.”

“Destroy the competition before it hatches. A wise plan of action if this were another time. Given the way humans have exploded population-wise, we might need allies.”

“Allies that will later require elimination if we’re to rule the world,” Abaddon countered.

“Are you scared of competition?” Pollita purred.

“No,” he blurted. As if he’d lose.

“What of the scientist Malone? Have you eaten him yet for being insubordinate?”

“He lives. For the moment. He thinks himself clever for refusing to divulge which volcanoes he attempted to ignite. However, Pip has a hacker who’s been working on his encrypted files. Once they’re cracked, we will know everything.”

“Do you think we’re the only ones who hatched through his machinations?” she asked.

“He seems to think those other attempts failed.” But then again, Malone had also thought Pollita dead, and look how wrong he’d been about that.

“My servant, Juan, has been using his connections to get a list of all the volcanoes that erupted in the past few years. Of those documented, six were unexpected and could have been induced by your Malone.”

“If you want to send me what he’s found, I can have Leo compare those locations to see if by any chance their descriptions match our clues.”

“Excellent idea,” Pollita stated, and he almost preened at the praise. “I’ve also had some of my other servants combing the internet for any stories of mysterious flying creatures or an uptick in the loss of herds in areas of eruption.”

“Good thinking,” he complimented. Beautiful and smart.

Pollita half turned as if she heard something. “Time for me to go. They just rang the dinner bell.”

“Before you do…” He lowered his voice. “I figure another few months and I’ll be able to plot a course to visit. That is, if you would like to meet still.”

Her teeth gleamed as she replied, “I would like that very much, Abba.”

It took all his fortitude to remain stoic rather than give in to giddiness. “Like you, I must go now. Important matters to attend.”

They ended the call and he allowed himself a loud bugle of excitement.

“Someone’s happy,” Pip noted, having returned.

“Don’t know what you mean,” he fibbed even as he fairly vibrated with anticipation. “Open the doors. I need to hunt.” And feed. And grow. Because a certain female dragon waited for him.

Best he cement that alliance before she discovered he’d told a lie. Despite him asking her to send a list of activated volcanoes her servant had sniffed out, he already knew of them. One in particular happened to be a name Leo recognized. “I remember Mount Amiata. It was the first one we tried to erupt, only nothing really happened other than heightened underground seismic activity. Malone was so pissed.”

Leo and Malone had assumed that the lack of the top blown off the mountain meant their attempt to hatch a dragon failed. After all, increased magma wouldn’t matter if the egg wasn’t anywhere near a lava flow. But… what if an egg did crack and its occupant perished because it never found its way to the surface? Or worse, what if it built up its strength while remaining hidden inside the mountain?

There could be another male out there who would become competition for Pollita’s attention. The very thought had him steaming.

She’s mine. Because dragons didn’t share.

Chapter 1

The curser blinked repeatedly and I wanted to punch it. I didn’t appreciate the way it kept mocking my inability to type anything of worth.

My editor expected a finished manuscript before the end of the month. In her defense, I’d had two years to write it. Two years of struggling to find the words. It didn’t help I’d spent most of them drunk. The bottle became my best friend after my wife left me for another dude, but even more traumatizing, she took my dog, Buster. I still missed that big goof even as I stalked her social media and saw him living his best life, playing fetch.

With another man.

The betrayal bit deep.

To escape it all, and with my deadline rapidly approaching, I’d recently fled the USA and temporarily relocated to a spot close to Mount Amiata in Italy. Drastic, I know, but my editor had a friend with a friend whose cousin owned a chalet that wasn’t usually rented in the winter since its remote location made it difficult to reach once the snow started falling.

The privacy—and absence of triggering memories, such as the couch where Buster and I used to snuggle—suited my needs even if I didn’t have use of the extra bedrooms it came with. Situated a fair distance up a mountain and reached by a sketchy, narrow, single-lane road, the chalet possessed a basic kitchen, which matched my cooking skill. The living room with a fireplace meant exercise in the form of splitting logs—and yeah, I’d been swinging that ax plenty since I’d kicked myself off the booze. And when I worked myself sore, there was a hot tub for soaking while enjoying the view. No neighbors equaled no distractions. As for my liver? It got a break since the nearest bar required me to drive. Even I knew better than to drink and drive, because despite my shitshow of a life, I didn’t want to die.

Should have been the perfect place to put my fingers to the typing grindstone.

Nope.

I fucking hated it. Never thought myself a social guy until I literally had no one to talk to. It should be noted that when I lived in the city, I rarely spoke to anyone, but I could have. If I’d wanted to.

And here I was, procrastinating again. I stared at the screen, fingers frozen over the keyboard, once more cursing myself for choosing to become a writer. At the time, recovering from being injured in the line of duty—with a leg that never fully healed from the shrapnel despite the surgeries and rehab—I needed something to keep my mind busy. It had been my therapist who’d suggested I begin journaling as a way to work through what I’d experienced. I thought it dumb, and yet, I tried it, writing down what I remembered but from the perspective of a third party, as if I watched what had happened from the outside. It didn’t help the nightmares, but I found myself enjoying the soothing nature of putting into words some of the things I experienced. Given the private nature of a journal, I spilled every thought and emotion into it, never expecting anyone to read it.

My now ex-wife stole what I wrote and sent it in to an editor she knew. When she told me, I was pissed. So very, very pissed, until the publishing house made me an offer with a crazy number of zeroes attached. For a guy struggling to maintain a household and his dignity on a disability check, the contract they offered felt like winning the lottery. That first book made me enough I forgave my ex and embarked on a new career.

Five years later and I could claim without arrogance that I was good at it. Who knew my gritty times in the field and trenches would have an audience? Avid readers were patiently—and not-so-patiently, according to various DMs and emails—waiting for the next book in my ongoing series, Sniper Behind the Lines, featuring a better version of my ornery ass, Brett Maverick. Given I couldn’t talk about most of my missions without being arrested for treason, I had to make changes to ensure the stories were fictional. However, I knew enough and had seen enough that scenarios proved easy—usually—to develop. Then there were the sensory details I could relate. How the grit of the Middle East clung to the skin and tongue, the feel and weight of the rifle, the way I’d sink into a trance as I lined up a shot, the adrenaline of battle. According to reviews, I knew how to suck a reader in and make them feel as if they were actually there.

Seeing as how my last two novels hit the bestseller lists, the pressure mounted to produce a sequel that wouldn’t suck. Hard to do when I just wanted to wallow in my misery.

My high school sweetheart, who’d seen me through all the physio sessions and held me when I woke shouting from nightmares, suddenly decided—after I found fame and fortune—that she wanted a different man. One without a bum leg. One who liked to dance. A guy who could give her kids. In other words, someone who wasn’t broken.

I shoved away from the desk as self-pity overwhelmed.

Fuck me. I wanted a drink so bad, but I’d intentionally left booze off my weekly deliveries, and the two times I’d gone to town I’d avoided the temptation to buy a bottle. Because one bottle led to two, and next thing I knew I’d find myself pissing in the most inappropriate places. Apartment building vestibule. My own fucking shoe by my front door.

Not cool.

Despite that, I craved the mindlessness that came from lots of alcohol. Maybe a dip in the hot tub would relax my ass. I needed to clear my head so the words could flow.

Throwing on a robe, with my feet loosely shoved into my boots, I headed out to the deck with its awesome view of Mount Amiata. Located in the Tuscany region, the long dormant volcano was a popular spot for hiking in the spring, summer, and fall, and skiing in the winter. A winter that started out slow until after the New Year. Within the last week, a layer of snow had fallen and covered everything in a blanket of white. Pretty but cold. With its arrival, just about every rental and hotel in the area was about to get booked solid. I didn’t have to worry, though. I had this place for as long as I needed since the owner didn’t usually rent during the winter months because of the difficulty getting to and from the chalet.

Given I didn’t have to worry about being seen, I stripped naked and sank into the hot tub, my muscles immediately relaxing in the bubbling, hot water. Sigh. I did enjoy this particular amenity. It eased the almost constant ache in my leg. It had me thinking of buying one for my place. The house I’d gotten to keep in the divorce. The place that killed me with memories every time I walked in the door.

I really should sell. Get myself some place new. One bedroom, since there would be no kids. Or maybe two, so I had a place to put my hot tub and sauna. I’d have asked my therapist what he thought, only I didn’t trust him anymore since he’d gotten together with my ex.

He’d almost died for it. I’d had the doctor in my scope’s sights a few nights as I lay on the roof of the building adjacent to his condo. My finger had tensed on the trigger, but in the end, I couldn’t kill Gary. Yeah, he was banging Elodie. Yeah, he was the one Buster now pissed on in excitement when he got home from work. But what would killing Gary do? It wouldn’t change the fact Elodie didn’t want my broken ass and I couldn’t exactly keep Buster with me in a jail cell.

I’d ended up being the bigger man. I let him live. And got drunk to numb the pain. A pain that never ended. Or was it the loneliness killing me? Either way, I would never escape. My leg would never fully heal, couldn’t with the missing chunk. As for ever finding love again? Why bother even trying when Elodie, a woman I’d loved for seven years, left because I wasn’t man enough anymore?

God, I wanted a drink.

No drink. Think of your abused liver.

Fuck my liver.

You need a clear head to write.

Fuck the story.

You’ll be fucked if you don’t turn it in.

I had two months. If I could do even a measly thousand words a day, I’d have a manuscript. Now, I just needed an idea. Something to lighten the darkness that kept creeping into the few chapters I’d struggled to spit out already.

What could I do to my hero, Brett, to give the book the flair I was known for? As one reviewer put it: For such a serious subject matter, Mr. Milner manages to inject a lighthearted repartee that keeps it from being depressing. Funny how I could that in books, just not real life.

My head tilted back, my eyes closed, and I relaxed. Until I heard a splash.

What the fuck?

I jolted upright and stared at the bubbling water. I was alone, so what fell in the tub? No trees overhung the spot, so not a nut or branch. I stood to look, but the frothing from the jets made it impossible to see anything below the surface. A press of a button and the motor went quiet, the only sound the occasional pop as the wood that kept the tub warm burned. The liquid settled and the lights on the inside of the tub showed me who’d jumped in.

Or should I say, what?

As if sensing my regard, the cat-sized creature rose from the bottom, the top of its head emerging first, then its big eyes, followed by its snout. Definitely a reptile. I might have thought I hallucinated, only I remained sober. No drugs for the pain. No booze. Nothing to explain the lizard eyeing me with a hint of caution. Had my drinking finally caught up to me and addled my mind?

I blinked but the lizard remained. I rubbed my hand over my bristled jaw. “Well, fuck.”

What to do?

Nothing. I wasn’t about to wrestle a reptile that size while naked.

I exited the tub and grabbed my terrycloth robe. As I wrapped it around my shoulders and slid my feet into my boots, I glanced at my scaly guest floating in the hot water. “Enjoy. I’m going back to work.”

Because miracles of all miracles, I had an idea. My hero, Brett, was about to get himself a reptilian sidekick.

COLLAPSE
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Tracking the Alpha

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Book Cover: Tracking the Alpha
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Part of the Project Therianthrope series:
  • Tracking the Alpha

A betrayal by those he trusted leads to one final mission.

Vengeance.

Captain Barrett Wilson never agreed to be experimented on by his superior officers, but he wasn’t given a choice. When he awakes in captivity, he wants nothing more than to escape, but it’s only when the beast within roars free that Barrett manages to flee his prison.

The nearby forest becomes his home and feeding ground, the primal urges raging through his body only satisfied by the blood of his enemies. But his murderous rampage ends when the huntress comes tracking.

Her scent? Unlike anything he’s ever encountered.

Want her.


Her stealth? A skill he can’t help but admire.


Claim her.

And when she discovers the secret to unlocking the man within the wolf…

Perhaps there’s still hope for Barrett, but only if he succeeds with his mission for vengeance. Those who changed him must die. To his surprise, when the huntress hears of his plan, she becomes his ally—and lover.

However, their happily ever after depends on them ridding themselves of the one obstacle in their way: The general in charge of Project Therianthrope.

Available on: 2025-09-18
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
Action and Adventure, genetic experimention, killer hero, killer heroine, Paranormal Romance, Shapeshifter Romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

“General!” Major Stevens barged into General Walt Davidson’s tent, ruining his planned nap.

“You’d better have a good excuse for invading my tent without permission,” snarled Walt, his patience short given the many restless nights spent tossing and turning on his wretched cot.

“Sir, something’s happened and you’re needed in the medical tent right away,” huffed Stevens, his face flushed either from excitement or heat.

“Whatever’s occurred, I highly doubt it requires my presence,” drawled Walt. “Let the doctors handle it.”

“But, sir—”

Walt interrupted. “There are no buts. I’m a busy man who doesn’t have time for panic when there is clear protocol to follow. If someone died, fill out the paperwork and I’ll look it over when I’m back at my desk.”

“No one died, sir. It’s something else. Something never seen before.”

READ MORE

Not words any leader liked to hear and Walt eyed the short distance between him and the major. “If the medical team is dealing with a possible contagion, then they should be quarantining everyone that comes into contact with Patient Zero, which includes you, Major, if you were exposed. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

“It’s not a disease, sir. At least, we don’t think it is?” The statement ended on a lilting query. “It’s actually rather incredible. The higher-ups will want to hear about it.”

Dammit, despite himself, intrigue roused, and Walt pursed his lips. The major, not a man usually prone to panic or drama, appeared quite flustered. “What exactly is going on in medical?”

“I’d explain, but honestly, you have to see it to believe it.”

So much for his nap. “This better be good,” Walt grumbled as he buttoned his jacket, rendering himself presentable. Uniform standards could be annoying, especially in the dry desert heat of the Middle East where he’d been stationed. Six months since he’d arrived to run the peacekeeping mission a few hundred kilometers from Kandahar. Six months of dust in everything. Military food rations. Extreme heat that resulted in grumpy troops, a mood only worsened by the lack of action. The Canadian Armed Forces too often took turning the other cheek too far. Even when insurgents attacked their peaceful convoys meant to help the people in the area, they’d been ordered to not retaliate. What a joke. Why bother sending soldiers if they weren’t allowed to fight?

Walt exited the tent and, despite the dusty haze stretching across the sky, squinted to see. The sun blared, hot and bright. It rose without fail every fucking day. He never thought he’d miss the gloomy cold days of winter back in Canada.

As Walt followed Major Stevens through the camp of tents and crates, soldiers lounging about snapped to attention, heels clacking together, hands angled and hitting their foreheads in a salute.

Walt acknowledged no one. One didn’t achieve and maintain a fierce reputation by being friendly with the lower ranks.

The medical tent, clearly marked with a giant red cross, had a half-dozen armed soldiers surrounding it, raising his brow. “Is there a threat inside? You assured me there was no contagion.”

“It’s a precaution,” the major answered. “While the soldier being treated has the potential to cause injury, I was more concerned about ensuring he couldn’t escape.”

More and more mysterious. So this was about someone under his command.

As Walt stepped past the stiff guards, he pulled aside the flap covering the doorway. “Well, let’s see what’s got you in such a—” The next words died on his tongue. As Walt’s eyes narrowed, he muttered, “How did a wolf get inside our medical tent?”

“That’s not a wolf, sir. You’re looking at Corporal Mato Nakai,” Major Stevens announced.

The tall wolf stood between a pair of medical gurneys with its hackles raised, growling at the soldiers pointing guns at it. Dr. Levy stood behind them, looking pale.

“Explain, Major.”

“Not much to tell, sir. Corporal Nakai was out with his section delivering supplies to one of the rural villages. Upon their return to camp, they were attacked. The vehicle they were in flipped and rolled. Two soldiers died instantly. Nakai and Philips were severely injured and brought back to camp for treatment.”

“We were attacked and this the first I’m hearing of it?” Walt snapped.

“You told me to not bother you unless it was a real emergency,” the major reminded. “I was preparing a report to present later when the doctor on duty had me fetched to show me what happened to Corporal Nakai.”

“And what is the doctor claiming happened?” Walt crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, apparently when Dr. Levy started cleaning the corporal’s wounds, Nakai went into convulsions and transformed from a man to this.” The major swept a hand in the direction of the wolf.

“Do you take me for an idiot?” Walt didn’t fall for the elaborate prank. Bored soldiers sometimes thought they could pull a fast one on their commanding officer. They’d soon find out he didn’t brook that kind of frivolous nonsense.

“Sir?”

“These kinds of stunts are not amusing and have no place in a military operation,” Walt barked. “I want to know who was involved with bringing a filthy wild animal into a sterile environment. You do realize that, because of this ill-thought caper, everything in here will have to be either tossed or scrubbed clean?”

“I assure you, General, this is no joke. That really is Corporal Nakai,” Dr. Levy ventured from behind a soldier to exclaim. “As unbelievable as it sounds, I saw it happen.”

“Bullshit.” The expletive exploded from his lips. “People do not turn into wolves. I don’t care how many werewolf movies Hollywood puts out. It’s impossible. Now, you, and whoever else was involved, will present yourselves in the command tent at fifteen hundred hours for punishment detail.”

“Sir, it’s the truth,” Dr. Levy interjected.

“It’s a medical miracle that needs to be studied,” the major added.

“Stop with the lying. The prank failed.” Walt pulled his sidearm and took aim at the wolf, which stopped baring its teeth and, with a lowered head, stared at him steadily. Blame the major’s insistence for Walt imagining he saw intelligence in the gaze.

Bang.

The wild creature lifted its shaggy head fast enough the bullet missed the spot between the eyes where he’d been aiming and struck it in the chest. The wolf didn’t yelp or try to flee despite the fact blood poured from the hole in its hairy chest. It also never took its gaze from the general’s, even when its entire body began to shake and spasm in the throes of death.

Walt went to pivot and leave, but Dr. Levy, in a breach that would result in extra punishment, lurched in his direction and grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t turn away. Watch. I think it’s happening again.”

As Walt’s mouth opened to reprimand, the words remained unspoken for the wolf lay on the floor of the medical tent shivering so hard its limb straightened. Hair receded. Paws melted into hands and feet. A muzzle shrank inwards to become a mouth with a nose in the middle of a human face.

By the time the shivering ceased, the wolf was gone. In its place, a man. A naked man with jet-black hair and the same unwavering, intent stare.

“Holy fuck.” The only thing the general could say that fit the moment.

“I told you it was true,” the major crowed in relief.

Walt took a step forward. “State your name.”

The naked man rose to his feet—flesh unmarked by any wounds—and, in spite of the incongruity of the situation, saluted. “Corporal Nakai, sir.”

“I need you to explain what just happened, Corporal.”

The man’s face twisted. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

At the refusal, Walt’s brow lifted. “I gave you an order.

“I realize that, sir. However, I swore an oath I can’t break.”

“You know I can’t ignore what just happened here.”

Nakai’s lips pinched. “I wish you would, sir.”

Ignore what might be the single greatest discovery of his career? Like fuck.

The general pointed. “Major, take the corporal into custody.”

Nakai foolishly thought he could run. He snared a scalpel and dove for the side of the tent. The blade tore through the canvas, and Nakai slipped through the gap, but the major had planned well by placing soldiers just outside.

The corporal still tried to plow through them and failed. A captured Nakai found himself in restraints and placed under guard in the tent used as a jail for misbehaving soldiers. Usually, it held those who’d disgraced their uniform in some fashion like getting stupid drunk or harassing the locals. This time, it held a man who was also somehow a wolf.

A man who steadfastly refused to answer questions until the major applied the right kind of pressure. Unfortunately, Nakai didn’t survive the interrogation. However, his preserved body got shipped to a lab back in Canada, and by the time Walt returned, Nakai’s extended family—which consisted of an uncle and sister—had been taken into custody. To everyone’s surprise and delight, it turned out they, too, could shift shapes like the corporal, something the government took great interest in.

And thus was Project Therianthrope born.

Chapter 1

Several years later…

 

The march from the barracks to headquarters didn’t take long, a good thing since it had begun to rain and Barrett really didn’t want to spend another hour spit-shining his boots when he could be having beers and winning money playing billiards.

Their entire section, under Captain Barrett Wilson’s command, had received the order to present themselves to General Davidson, but they’d not been told why, which led to the soldiers throwing out theories.

“Think we’re finally going to get deployed?” asked Slater, breaking the silence permeating the room where they’d been told to wait.

“I already told you, I have no idea,” growled Barrett for the umpteenth time. He’d not known the first time he’d been asked as he barked at them all to tuck in their shirts and be ready to move out. Nor had he known the fourth time when jogging up the stairs. Nor the seventh as they’d been told to wait until the general was ready to see them. A clueless Barrett really wished he had an answer because this kind of summons didn’t usually occur without a hint. Were they in trouble? About to be commended? Getting bad news?

“Think this meeting has to do with the intense medical screening they put us through?” questioned Freya. The most petite member of their section had been the only one to cheerfully submit to the battery of tests. Bloodwork, tissue samples, measurements of every kind known to medical science that went beyond, height, weight, and blood pressure.

“Must be for something special,” drawled Radley. “I mean, why else make us fill out that questionnaire that wanted to know everything about our personal lives?”

Another oddity. It wanted them to indicate every medical ailment and procedure they’d ever undergone. Had them list every member of their immediate and extended family, whether dead or alive, and then also asked their medical history. Barrett’s didn’t take long. Orphaned at a young age by drug-addicted parents who died of overdoses. No family to take him in. As for his own history, the only time he ever ended up in the hospital had been for a broken arm skateboarding. He'd always been healthy.

“As if anyone can remember every single time they got sick,” Slater remarked.

“I just put from age six to twelve,” Gage added with a laugh. He joked about his heart issue as if it were nothing, and yet Barrett knew it had been a tense time, as he’d almost died several times until the operation that fixed his irregular heartbeat. Gage had only barely managed to get accepted into the military. Blame the loosening of certain regulations given the low sign-up numbers.

“At least you guys didn’t have to do the entire section on periods,” complained Zendaya, her full lips pursing in annoyance.

“I ran out of room when it asked me to list sexual encounters,” bragged Phoenix, the section’s Casanova and lieutenant.

“Bet you needed an extra page to list treated diseases too,” muttered Idris, the most serious member of their section, who rarely engaged in banter but when he did...

“Hey, I’ll have you know I always wear a rubber!” exclaimed Phoenix.

“Says the guy who panicked just last month when that chick you hooked up with claimed she was pregnant,” retorted Slater.

“Which turned out to be a scam,” Phoenix reminded. “She was already prego when we did the tango. She was just looking for someone to pay for the kid.”

Barrett pinched the bridge of his nose as the discussion devolved. “Enough. We’re supposed to be patiently waiting. Next person to speak is gonna drop and give me fifty.”

And what did those assholes do?

Everyone but Idris hit the floor and began pumping them out so they could continue to rag on each other. Barrett really needed to find a more effective discipline measure.

The thick wooden door opened, and Major Stevens poked his head out, sending the section scrambling to their feet to stand at attention. There was rustling as everyone saluted, including Barrett.

The major’s lips pursed. “The general will see you now.”

Barrett marched first into the room, set up boardroom style with a long table flanked by chairs on one side only. He stopped a few feet from it and snapped a salute. His section fell into line behind him, and the click of heels let him know they followed formal military protocol even though most of the people in the room appeared civilian.

Not that it mattered, seeing as how the stony-faced general sat amidst the men and women wearing white coats.

Major Stevens shut the door and took up a position to the left of it. Silence fell as those seated eyed Barrett and his section.

General Davidson—with a reputation for being a hardass and a bit of an asshole—barked, “At ease.”

As his feet spread shoulder width, Barrett dropped his hands behind his back, adopting a more relaxed pose, which belied the tension he couldn’t shake. Why did the general want to meet with them? And why were so many doctors present? Had they picked up a bug on their last mission? It seemed unlikely, seeing as how they’d been at the Petawawa base now for more than a month.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been summoned,” General Davidson said. “And I will get to that in a moment. First off, it goes without saying that nothing we speak of today leaves this room. To ensure that isn’t an issue there will be no outside communication at all.”

“None?” blurted Takhi, the shyest in their group. “But my mother—”

“Will be notified that you are currently unavailable, which I will remind is normal given your line of work,” the general snapped, interrupting Takhi.

Barrett didn’t need to see her face to know it would be stiff and fighting tears. Takhi had learned her mother was in hospice with stage-four cancer, and she’d just submitted her compassionate leave request so she could be with her mother for her final days.

The general drummed his fingers on the table. “I will graciously forgive the outburst, but understand right now, I will brook no other interruption. As it is, count yourself lucky that amongst all the sections tested, yours proved the most promising. A blend of the sexes as well as racial backgrounds that will give us just the right amount of variety.”

At the strange choice of words, Barrett fought to keep his brow from creasing in a frown. Since when did variety matter on a mission?

“You won’t have heard, given the top-secret classification, but I’ve been put in charge of a special project. One that will revolutionize armies, not just in Canada but around the world. As part of the development and testing, I’ve been given leeway to recruit whomever I want for it. Congratulations. Your section won.” The smile sent a shiver down Barrett’s spine.

“Once we’re done with this meeting, you will be leaving directly for the facility, and before you ask, no, you may not pack a bag or call anyone.”

The order led to Takhi ignoring the general’s earlier warning. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I must ask to be excused on compassionate grounds. My mother’s been placed in hospice and—”

The general didn’t let Takhi finish. “This isn’t something any of you can decline.”

“But—”

“Continue to argue, corporal, and you will be placed under arrest for disobeying a senior officer and dereliction of duty.”

That sealed Takhi’s mouth, and Barrett’s unease grew. Usually, in cases such as Takhi’s, where a close family member was gravely ill, concessions were made. Why would the general not simply replace Takhi? Or remove her entirely, given her distraction would be detrimental to the outcome of this secret project?

“As I was saying, your section was chosen only after very careful consideration to participate in this project. There will be no exceptions. Once you leave this room, you will be immediately transported to our North Bay facility to begin undergoing treatments.”

This time, Barrett couldn’t contain himself. “Treatments, sir? As in, medical procedures?”

“Yes. And before you ask, they are experimental in nature.” The general’s expression turned sly. “But you needn’t worry much. We’ve managed to eliminate most of the risks associated with it.”

Really not the most reassuring thing to say and Phoenix took exception. “Excuse me, General, but my contract with the military does not give you permission to use me as a guinea pig.”

“It doesn’t. However, given the nature of this project, special rights have been assigned to me, and that includes recruiting whomever I like,” the general replied with a smug smile.

“I’m pretty sure my lawyer will have something to say about that,” Phoenix replied.

“I’m sure many people would protest what I’m doing if they knew about it. But they won’t ever find out because you won’t have a chance to tattle.” A flat statement that came with a cold stare.

“You can’t conduct experiments on people,” blurted Freya. “It’s against the Nuremberg Code.”

“Can’t isn’t a word that applies to me and my mandate. The moment you walked into this room, you lost all rights and are now military assets to be used as I need, but there is good news. The treatments you’ll be undergoing will turn you into better soldiers. Stronger. Most resistant to injury. Sharper in both acuity and agility. You should be thanking me, as you’ll be getting it for free.”

“This is bullshit,” Phoenix huffed. “I am not agreeing to be a part of this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” snapped Davidson.

“Yeah, I do. Go ahead and court martial my ass. I’ll take defending my actions in front of a panel over being some kind of lab rat. I’m out of here.”

Despite his military training that told him not to let distraction turn his head, Barrett couldn’t help but watch as Phoenix headed for the door, flanked by a pair of military police. They blocked the exit, and Phoenix growled, “Either arrest me or move out of the way.”

The MPs didn’t move, but Major Stevens did, hastening to Phoenix’s side.

Only when Phoenix exclaimed, “What the fuck did you just jab me with?” did Barrett notice the needle in the major’s hand.

What the fuck?

Phoenix immediately slumped to the floor, and Barrett’s stomach tightened into a ball. Something was gravely wrong here. This kind of shit didn’t happen. He whirled to face the civilians watching and, with his jaw tight, growled, “The general is out of line, and you all know it. When his superiors find out what he’s done—”

“They’ll applaud me because, you see, my orders and funding for this project come from the highest levels of government with approval from the prime minister herself. You see, with declining enrollment numbers and the constantly changing challenges facing the world today, from new technology to bio-based weapons and ever more clever terrorists, we need something to help us get an edge on those who see us as weak. It’s time we forced the respect of other countries, who, for too long, have seen the Canadian Military as a joke. They won’t be laughing at us once they see what our new troops can do. On the contrary, they’ll be clamoring for our secret.” The general’s lips pulled into a taut smile. “And we might just sell it to them for the right price.”

Barrett had heard enough. Despite having seen what happened to Phoenix, he couldn’t let the soldiers under his command be subjected to this madness. The major might be able to stop one soldier, but not the remaining eight of them at once.

“Soldiers, with me,” Barrett shouted as he pivoted into motion. He had no real plan other than to rush the door. Once past it, they only needed to escape the anteroom before they entered an area with people. People that wouldn’t stay quiet if they saw military personnel being attacked and drugged into submission.

The MPs by the door stepped aside, seeing Barrett and the seven remaining members of the section rushing them. Barrett didn’t need to say a word for Idris to bend and grab Phoenix, slinging him over his burly shoulder.

Leave no man—or woman—behind.

They made it to the antechamber without anyone being jabbed with a sedative. Barrett aimed for the exit to the hallway, only to find it locked. He pulled and turned at the knob with no success.

“What now, Captain?” huffed Gage.

“We kick it down.” Barrett took a step back and lifted his boot to smash.

Bang. He hit the panel solidly, and it didn’t budge.

“Captain, they appear to have locked us in,” Zendaya reported as she yanked the knob for the door they’d just passed through.

Penned like rats.

“They’ll have to open it at one point,” Barrett growled. “Be ready.”

No one mentioned the fact they might be facing armed military police with their bare hands. By now, they all realized they had no choice but to fight lest they become pawns in a medical experiment peppered with red flags. Surely the prime minister hadn’t approved illegal testing on soldiers? The general must have gone rogue. The outcry once his actions were revealed would be what saved Barrett and the others from being jailed and possibly dishonorably discharged. Of course, that scenario required them escaping first.

“Does anyone else hear hissing?” Slater inquired.

A swivel of Barrett’s head pinpointed the source. The vents in the ceiling, one in each corner, emitted a pale gas.

While knowing it would be useless, he still barked a command. “Cover your mouth and nose. Avoid breathing.”

The soldiers did their best to avoid inhaling the spreading fumes. However, without a properly fitted gas mask, once their lungs grew too tight, they couldn’t avoid taking a breath.

Soon as Barrett sucked in, lethargy spread rapidly through his limbs, stealing his strength. As his knees buckled, he noticed his section falling to the floor one by one. His eyelids grew heavy. Thoughts muddled. His tongue too thick to speak.

Thunk. He lost consciousness before he face-planted, but he sure as hell felt the broken nose and bruising when he woke.

Woke in a concrete chamber wearing only a thin hospital-type gown, alone but for the general’s mocking voice. “Welcome to Project Therianthrope, Patient 73.”

COLLAPSE
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The Grae Sisters (Books 1 – 3)

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Book Cover: The Grae Sisters (Books 1 - 3)
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Part of the The Grae Sisters series:
  • The Grae Sisters (Books 1 – 3)
  • Warden and the Assassin
  • Professor and the Seer
  • Gentleman and the Witch
An urban fantasy in three parts  featuring very unique triplets.
The Grae Sisters is a three book collection of the following previously release titles.
• Warden and the Assassin ~ I’m the sister you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. Probably why a warden named Bane hires me to protect him from an upcoming arcane event. The odds are stacked against me, but I’m determined to win this fight and Bane’s love.
• Professor and the Seer ~ I’ve been cursed with seeing the future including one where the professor I’ve fallen in love with dies at my feet. There has to be a way to change what’s to come, but what if my choices bring about the apocalypse?
• Gentleman and the Witch ~ The ex-god who demands my aid is no gentleman, but then again, this witch is no lady. Together we will hunt beyond the Earthly dimension in search of our common enemy.  An enemy who miscalculated. Never threaten this witch because I will do anything, even end the world, to avenge those I love.
A blend of urban fantasy and romance that will keep you reading well past your bedtime.
Published: 2024-11-21
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, dark humor, god romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Paranormal Romance, psychic romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, Urban Fantasy, Witch Romance, wizard romance
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english
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Earth’s Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)

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Part of the Earth's Magic series:
  • Earth’s Magic : Collection One (Books 1-3)
  • Earth’s Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)
  • Earth’s Daughter
  • Earth’s Lair
  • Earth’s Elf
  • Earth’s Paladin
  • Earth’s Secret
  • Earth’s Triangle

A dryad on a mission, a witch with a secret, and two hounds ready to howl for love, So much to love in this paranormal romance bundle.

The Earth’s Magic Collection Two contains previously released titles:

• Earth’s Paladin ~ The world might not be ready for Mother Earth’s slightly murderous champion. Too bad, because she’s about to fertilize gardens the old-fashioned way; with the blood of her enemies. Will love temper her need for vengeance?
• Earth’s Secret ~ This Cryptid Authority agent—and witch—has been tasked with investigating a string of arsons. To her surprise, she uncovers a link to her past and now must scramble to survive with the help of her famous—and handsome—partner.
• Earth’s Triangle  ~ These hounds have orders from their goddess to protect a human. Not the most exciting job until they meet her face to face. Adeline’s charm gets their hearts and back paws thumping, but there is a problem: Why are zombies attracted to her?

Lighthearted, paranormal fun in a world where anything can happen, and love always prevails.
Published: 2024-10-31
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, curse romance, dark humor, dryad romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Menage/Polyamory, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, second chance romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, werewolf romance, Witch Romance
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Legend of Scorpio

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Part of the The Thirteenth Zodiac series:
  • The Thirteenth Zodiac (Books 1 – 3)
  • Legend of Scorpio
  • Sins of Leo
  • Capture of Capricorn
  • Taurus’s Quest

A fiery warrior plus an icy scientist = 💥 ❤️‍🔥

For eons, the Zodiac Warriors have fought in secret the evils that threaten Earth: aliens, monsters, even depraved humans. So when their seer predicts a coming calamity these fighters are more than eager to help protect humanity.

First up is Scorpio who is tasked with locating an artifact in Antarctica. A simple mission, except the doctor who’s supposed to help him find it has no idea what he’s talking about.

Rebecca doesn’t know what to think of the dude who suddenly appears—naked in subzero temperatures. He claims to be some kind of astral hero. Ridiculous, and yet, there is something not quite human about Scorpio. As for his conviction she can lead him to some kind of relic that will save the world? He must be smoking some epic astral dust.

To her surprise, though, the glacier she’s been chipping at is hiding the entrance to a mysterious cave. An ancient one full of peril. What they discover inside blows her scientific mind. Almost as much as Scorpio blows her usually quiet libido.

However, before Rebecca can come to terms with the fact Zodiac Warriors truly are magical, she’s betrayed by her employer. Turns out, she wasn’t contracted by some do-good climate group, but by villains who steal the relic for nefarious purpose!

Good thing a true hero never gives up.

Can Scorpio recover the relic before it’s too late? And if he does, will this bachelor decide he’s ready to relinquish the single life for love?

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Published: 2025-01-16
Genres:
alien romance, killer hero, Romantic Comedy, Sci-Fi Romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

“There is a disturbance in the astral forces,” declared Sage as she dropped some herbs into the pot of boiling liquid, which she stirred with a long-handled wooden spoon. She was always brewing concoctions. Tinctures for healing. Potions for good luck. Fragrant stews that foretold a future of a happy stomach.

Aries, working out in the corner of their apartment, paused his bench pressing to eye his wife. “Another asteroid?” He and the team had recently acted to change the course of a hurtling rock so it bypassed Earth. Successfully, of course, although its adjusted trajectory baffled NASA observers.

“No, not a meteor. What I’m sensing is already here but has been hidden for a long time. According to my portents, its emergence will cause chaos.” Sage frowned at her brew. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say…” She shook her head. “No, impossible.”

READ MORE

“What’s impossible?” Aries padded over to his wife, wiping his sweaty brow with a towel.

Sage’s lips pursed. “There are only twelve. It makes no sense.”

“Only twelve what?” He’d gotten used to his wife’s somewhat cryptic replies. Being a mystic, Sage saw the world differently than others.

“The twelve Warriors of the Zodiac are eternal and unchanging.”

“I hear a ‘but.’”

She raised her gaze to his, her eyes swirling with colors as her powers flooded her petite body. “But I see a thirteenth.”

His turn to frown and mutter, “Impossible.”

“Agreed, and yet I see it. A thirteenth warrior will soon rouse, and in its wake: destruction. Death.”

At that announcement, Aries stiffened. “Not while the twelve stand. Tell me what we must do to counter this interloper.”

Her voice took on a monotone as she stated, “Find what was lost and make it whole. True love’s kiss shall show the way. Join them under the nimbus of the eclipse.”

Aries drawled, “Is this your way of asking for a smooch? Because you know I don’t need a prophecy to give you one.”

Sage blinked before focussing on him. “This is not a joke. Something dangerous is coming. The threads of the future show it only being stopped by an object of power, long broken apart with its pieces lost. Those fragments must be found and reassembled during a solar eclipse.”

“Where does the kiss come in?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’d better find out, or the world is doomed.”

“Where do we start looking for these missing parts?”

Sage bit her lower lip. “Let me see what my casting stew has to say.” She dropped in more ingredients and stirred, the fragrance changing with each addition. Yummy-smelling, but he knew better than to taste. Only an idiot would eat powerful magic.

With Sage busy, Aries nuked some pizza pockets for dinner. He didn’t bother making any for Sage, as she would only eat once she achieved—

“The first piece of the relic will be located by a woman.”

“You do know there’s a billion of that sex populating the earth?”

Sage cast him a dark look. “I wasn’t done. She is a scientist, currently doing some research in Antarctica. She’s about to make a discovery that will put her in danger.”

“I’ll gather the team and head out immediately.”

At his statement, Sage shook her head. “No. Only one can go. If you send any more, the mission will fail.”

“A single warrior?” Aries frowned as he thought over his options. Libra’s wife just had a baby, so that would be cruel. Leo was most likely on another bender. Capricorn had last been seen roaming the mountains of Tibet, finding himself. “I don’t have anything on my schedule.”

“Not you.” A flat reply from Sage. “It should be Scorpio.”

“He just finished a mission and is supposed to be on a break. We could send Cancer.”

“It must be Scorpio.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Because I said so.” A tart reply.

And that was that.

The mystic had spoken.

Chapter 1

The summons came while Scorpio sunbathed on a beach in Florida.

Your presence is requested immediately.

He uttered a groan, and the bikini-clad lady by his side murmured, “What’s wrong, handsome?”

“Work’s calling.”

“How do you know? Your phone didn’t ring.”

“The boss has his ways,” Scorpio’s cryptic reply as he rose from the sand and stretched.

“Will I see you again?” she asked.

“Not likely.” Scorpio wasn’t into the whole relationship thing. In his defense, the women he dated weren’t either. Fun, casual times. That was the way to live.

He padded to the hut he’d been renting and gathered his belongings, stuffing them into a bag before bowing his head and concentrating.

No place like home.

The tattoo on his back, a scorpion that spanned the entire width, heated.

In moments, he found himself on the first floor of the Tower of Babel. Not destroyed as historical texts claimed but hidden from human view after the attempt.

The massive structure used to house all the Zodiac Warriors. However, these days, some of them chose to maintain homes outside of it, wanting the freedom to enjoy what the modern world offered.

Not Aries. Given he’d married the prophetess, Sage, he remained, and the two embraced a life devoid of the chaos and constant surveillance now happening pretty much everywhere in the world. Other Zodiac Warriors stayed because they had a preference for solitude. Neither was why Scorpio maintained a suite of rooms in the tower. He liked people, liked partying. However, there were numerous reasons he had for continuing to call the Tower home: one being, he couldn’t decide on a new permanent place. Besides, it wasn’t as if he spent much time there. On his days off he tended to travel the world: the warmer the climate, the better.

As Scorpio climbed the stairs to Aries’ office—a thigh-burning two hundred steps out of the almost twelve thousand that it took to reach the peak of Babel Tower—he wondered what the de facto leader wanted. Scorpio had just returned from a mission, a rescue of migrant children who’d been smuggled over the border for foul reasons. The tykes he’d freed had been handed over to adults who didn’t have nefarious designs. As for those responsible… Currently feeding coyotes in the wild. Scorpio recycled whenever he could.

He arrived on the seventh floor breathing a little heavily. It had been a while since he’d trained by running up and down those steps. Might be time to recondition.

The windows that wound around the tower, along with the staircase, let in the bright sun and illuminated the circling corridor lined with potted plants. When he’d first been recruited, he tried to find out who kept them watered. No matter how much caffeine he pumped into his body, he always fell asleep. The plants weren’t the only thing that seemed to be magically cared for. The tower never stayed dirty. No matter how many muddy boots he tromped through his quarters, or how much pizza he dropped, when he either woke or returned after a trip, everything was once more pristine. It proved jarring at times because, in the real world, when he roamed among the humans, his messes didn’t vanish. Part of the reason why he kept his home in the tower. He liked having an invisible maid.

His boots barely made a sound as he strode to the wooden panel carved with the wheel of the Zodiac. Within that circle, the inscribed symbols for each of the warriors. Twelve marks, for twelve constellations, for twelve flesh-based avatars. Scorpio’s emblem glowed as he placed his hand on the portal.

Click. The door opened, and Scorpio entered to find Aries standing behind his desk, looking out the window.

“Hey bossman, what’s up? Thought I was supposed to be on a two-week break before the next mission.” He flopped into a chair across from the desk.

Aries glanced at him over his shoulder. “Change of plans. Sage had a vision.”

Scorpio stiffened. All the Zodiac Warriors listened when Sage spoke. “What did she see?”

“Something wicked is coming, and to stop it, we have to locate some artifacts.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to fight it?” Scorpio usually had one simple solution to most things: Kill it. That tended to end most problems.

“Apparently, we can’t. Sage insists we find these relics, and lucky you, you’re first up.”

“Fair enough. What am I looking for?”

“I don’t know. Sage couldn’t see the actual items in question, although she did have a location for the first one. Congrats, you’re going to Antarctica.”

“Where it’s like a billion degrees below zero?” Scorpio huffed. “You know I hate the cold.” Yes, he complained. Why couldn’t his task be somewhere hot and sticky?

“One, where you’re going, it’s only minus twenty or so degrees Fahrenheit. Two, the cold can’t hurt you.” One of the quirks of being a Zodiac Warrior. “And three, you are going because Sage said it had to be you. Trust me, you weren’t my first choice because I knew you’d whine.”

“I’m just busting your balls. ’Course, I’ll go. However, if Sage doesn’t even know what I’m looking for, how the fuck am I going to find it?”

“It’s a mystic quest. It will reveal itself. And you won’t be completely without aid. You’re to locate a doctor… Hold, let me find the name.” Aries checked the notes on his computer screen. “Dr. Guthrie, who is already there studying the glaciers.”

“They have scientists analyzing giant ice cubes? Sounds absolutely scintillating.” Not. “I assume I’m not supposed to kill this doctor.”

“No.” A flat statement accompanied by a stern look.

“What about roughing them up if they don’t cooperate?”

Aries sighed. “You know, you don’t always have to use your fists—or knives—to solve problems.”

“You’re right. Guns are much more efficient, as they can be used from a distance.” Yes, Scorpio antagonized on purpose. The leader of their faction took his role very seriously.

“No hurting anyone unless your life is in peril,” snapped Aries.

“Aye, aye, bossman. So, how am I getting there? Do we have a portal I don’t know about in Antarctica?” Because, while Scorpio had been around the world using the doorways that linked their home base to various locations, he’d never heard of one at the South Pole. North, yes. It was shared with Claus. Yes, that Claus.

“No portal. You’ll have to starbeam in.”

Scorpio groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That is like the most annoying way to travel.” Starbeam involved triangulating their constellation to act as a conduit that would basically disassemble a warrior and reshape them at their desired location. Uncomfortable at best, but at its worst, if they miscalculated even slightly, they’d been known to reappear with nothing. In other words, in the buff. Hard to intimidate with your dick and balls swinging around.

“I am not wasting the time or resources renting a plane to drop you. And you know, starbeaming wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t rush the calculations.”

Scorpio’s lips pinched. “I hate math.” He’d hated it when young and the teacher would show them five apples then take two away and ask them to count the remainder. She never liked his answer, which was five, because there were still five apples, just not in the same pile. Then when he ate the two and finally gave the response she wanted of three, she’d put him in time out.

“And I hate peas,” Aries replied.

“What’s little balls of green deliciousness have to do with math?” he exclaimed.

“Nothing. It’s as pointless as you arguing. Now, if you’re done, here’s the coordinates of the doctor’s camp.”

Aries handed over a printout that kindly included his constellation’s positioning for the next forty-eight hours, as well as that of a meteor travelling in the area that would require making some adjustments—AKA, more fucking math.

“Guess I’ll finally get to wrestle polar bears,” Scorpio stated as he stood to take his leave.

“The bears live in the north. South Pole is penguins and seals.”

“Bummer. Can’t exactly wrestle a cute penguin. Think a seal will provide a challenge?”

Aries once more sighed. “Don’t fuck up.”

“Who, me?”

“And don’t kill anything!”

“No promises,” Scorpio sang as he walked out the door.

He spent a few hours getting his shit together. Had a nap. Packed a knapsack—with weapons. Another with food. Played a few rounds of COD—and got destroyed by some kids who called him old. Then struggled with the calculations for his starbeam. By the time he finished, his brain hurt, but in good news, he was ready to go.

He went outside the tower with his gear but kept the knapsack in his lap as he plopped to the ground, cross-legged. Scorpio drew symbols in the courtyard sandbox, like, literally a sandbox. A square ringed in stones and filled with sand—not the earthly variety, but that created by grinding meteors. It provided a perfect base for the squiggles he dug with a finger, the ones at his back being the most annoying to complete. Why starbeaming couldn’t be as simple as concentrating, he never understood. After all, his tattoo gave him a direct link to home. Why couldn’t the person who created the warriors have devised a similar method for travelling elsewhere? Yes, they had portals, twelve of them scattered around the world in major areas, but in a hurry, it would have been useful to choose their exact destination.

Once done with his drawing, Scorpio placed his hands on his knees, closed his eyes, and then, because it amused him, muttered, “By the power of the Zodiac, let’s go!”

Uh-oh. The realization he’d miscalculated hit the moment his body began disincorporating, but by then, it was too late. He shot to his constellation of stars, faster than noise and light, and then, from there, ricocheted back to Earth.

In good news, he made it to Antarctica.

The bad? He arrived wearing nothing but a grimace.

 

Chapter 2

“Just my freaking luck,” Rebecca muttered as she stared at the leopard seal she’d startled as she rounded the glacier she was studying. The massive bull quivered as it watched her. She backed away slowly, hands out in front of her as if that would keep it calm.

It barked and lifted itself, bristling with aggression.

“Nice seal. I’m not a hunter. You just keep sunning yourself. I’ll come back for samples later.”

Much like her singing, her voice failed to have a soothing effect.

The seal uttered a sound and slid a flipper forward.

To think she’d scoffed at the need for a tranquilizer gun. Antarctica wasn’t known for its predators. Curious penguins, yes. Seals, also, most of which ignored humans. But the leopard seals… they liked meat, and yes, that included humans. While attacks were rare, they did happen. Just ask that poor scientist killed by one in the early 2000s.

Rebecca fumbled at her utility belt and pulled forth a whistle. Sharp sounds startled most wild animals. She put it to her lips and blew.

Skree!

A piercing shriek filled the air, but rather than scare the seal, the beast began humping in her direction.

Oh, hell no. She turned and started to run. In her thick and heavy boots on uneven snow and ice, it went as well as expected.

Thump. She hit the ground and only narrowly missed smashing her face. Huffing hotly, she flipped to her back, scuttling from the seal charging in her direction, death in its gaze.

Would this be how her life ended? A blurb on the internet—Female Scientist Dies After Being Mauled by Seal in Antarctica. She could just imagine the comments.

Should have sent a man.

Why didn’t she shoot it?

Wouldn’t have happened if she stayed in the kitchen where she belonged.

At least she’d die doing what she loved.

Accepting this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study in Antarctica had been the culmination of a dream. From a young age, as a child raised in the arid and hot state of Arizona, she’d always been fascinated by snow and ice. It led to her acquiring a few degrees, including one as a glaciologist, something that had people always saying ‘Hunh?’ after asking her what she’d studied.

They didn’t understand her fascination with glaciers. How slicing into one could uncover all kinds of secrets. The way the ice layers showed past climate events. The warming and cooling of the planet over the ages. How they could help predict patterns for the future. Sometimes, a lucky glaciologist would even come across something perfectly preserved in the ice. A flash-freezing of an extinct species.

The seal hadn’t slowed its approach, and she couldn’t help but stare when…

A streak of light plummeted from the sky, bright enough she closed her eyes. When no boom accompanied the bolt, she peeked to see if she got lucky and the lightning hit the seal.

It hadn’t, but the light had stopped the seal dead in its flippers, mostly because a naked man stood between her and the startled bull.

The seal barked.

The man, who possessed a very muscly back covered in a massive tattoo, barked right back.

Rebecca blinked. Had she already been killed? A glance at her intact clothing and the still-white snow around her seemed to indicate nothing had touched her.

Not dead—not yet—but the man might not fare so well.

The seal lunged at the stranger, and to her shock, rather than dodge, the stranger grabbed it in a headlock and laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that, fat ass.” The man then lifted and flung the huge seal.

It landed with a grunting noise and uttered a short-pitched whine.

“Don’t you bitch at me. You started this.” The man shook a finger, chiding.

The seal yipped some more.

“Yeah, yeah, I ruined your fun. Too fucking bad. Maybe you should pick on someone your own size.”

The seal raised itself to its full height and embarked on a frenzied barkfest.

Once more, the fearless man mimicked it.

To her shock, the seal chuffed and then turned around, humping its way back to the water. She’d lived. Maybe. She most certainly hit her head, though.

Rebecca muttered, “What the heck just happened?”

“I saved your butt,” the stranger stated as he turned with a smile. His front proved as impressive as the back, muscle upon muscle and a cock that didn’t appear to mind the cold.

“Who are you? How did you get here? And where are your clothes?”

The stranger glanced at himself and sighed. “Fuck me. Not again. Next time I gotta remember not to wear my favorite jeans when starbeaming.”

Nothing he said made sense. “Hello, still looking for an answer.”

“Guess there’s no point in giving you a bullshit story, seeing as how you saw my starlit arrival. I am Scorpio.” He struck a pose. “Zodiac Warrior, protector of the world, here on an important mission.”

“Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Is this a joke?” Rebecca glanced around, waiting for the punchline.

“I know you’re overwhelmed by my presence. It happens. After all, we don’t appear to just anyone, and I didn’t actually plan to be seen by you. However, I might have made a slight mathematical miscalculation, which turned out to be good for you. I do believe that seal was going to eat your face, which is surprising. I thought they only scarfed down fish.”

“Are you an alien?” Because strangely enough, it made the most sense.

“Nope, although I have a close affinity to the stars. Those ones to be exact.” He pointed to the blue sky, where not a single astral body could be seen.

“Are you human?”

“Yes, but one that has been enhanced.”

She had to be dreaming, and yet everything felt so real. The cold. The bright sun making her squint. The details of his body that she would have never imagined. After all, the usual men featuring in her fantasies weren’t body-building, platinum-haired man-beasts. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for Doctor Guthrie.”

At hearing her name, she cocked her head. “Why?”

“He’s supposed to help me find something. Do you know where he is? I’m assuming he’s camped nearby, unless I really fucked up my landing zone.”

“She,” Rebecca emphasized, “Is right in front of you, and the only thing I’m helping you find is a pair of pants.”

“You’re Doctor Guthrie?” He ogled her.

“Yes.”

“You’re not a dude.”

“You don’t say,” her dry reply.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Scorpio.” He offered a dazzling smile.

“You already introduced yourself.”

“That’s right, I did. So now that we’ve been introduced, care to tell me where it is?”

“Where what is?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of special object. The details aren’t clear. I assumed you’d know what I meant. The bossman said Sage was very specific about you helping me.”

“Listen, crazy naked dude from the stars, I don’t know what you are, why you’re really here, or what you want from me, but I think I’ve had enough weirdness for one day. So I’m going back to my shelter and having a cup of coffee, which will be fifty percent or more whiskey, then to bed, where I will later wake up and decide I hallucinated on account I smacked my head.”

“Not a hallucination, that is assuming you’ve not imbibed any shrooms. Even then, this is happening, Doc. Now lead me to your camp, because a whiskey coffee sounds great. Although you can skip the coffee in mine.”

“Who says you’re invited?” she retorted.

“You’re a scientist. Don’t tell me you’re not curious about the naked man who appeared from the sky.”

“I would be if this were real.”

“I’ll show you real.” He stalked for her, and she got to notice just how tall he was. Fluid, too, his body moving limber and confident. His smile just enough to stutter her heart.

When he stopped in front of her, she had to crane to see him. Heat radiated from his nude flesh. “How are you so hot?” she muttered.

“Baby, I was born this way,” he murmured before dragging her upward and planting a kiss on her lips!

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Blood Pack Beginning

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Book Cover: Blood Pack Beginning
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Part of the Pack series:
  • Defying Pack Law
  • Betraying the Pack
  • Seeking Pack Redemption
  • New Pack Order
  • Blood Pack Beginning

Pack Law doesn’t apply to vampires, but Sasha is still determined to take three wolves as her mates.

Sasha lives in the shadows, emerging only to fight at the behest of her sire. But her latest assignment hits a snag in the form of a few Lycans. They aren’t the rogues she was looking for but might be the men she needs—if she can get them to heel. When they’re not howling and shedding, they’re barking at each other, trying to establish who will be her lover.

There’s big and burly Amir, who gave up everything for his family but wants to do something meaningful with his life.

Cyrus, the cynical skeptic who is leery of the tenuous alliance between vampires and Lycans.

The playful Diego who is ready to do whatever it takes to impress Sasha.

Three delectable Lycans means Sasha has some choices to make. Invest in a dog food company? Buy some flea collars? Maybe take them as her mates, so long as they understand there can only be one alpha…

Her.

However, seduction isn’t the most pressing issue at hand. The death of the trouble making Morpheus has revealed a mysterious and even more dangerous player. Lycans, even dormants, are being culled by this mysterious master and, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate, there’s reports of monsters attacking humans. Fighting ghouls is easy compared to stopping a traitor who would have their kind exposed to humanity.

Can Sasha and her Lycan allies—and lovers—stop the coming conflict before it’s too late?

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Published: 2025-03-06
Cover Artists:
Glowing Moon Designs
Genres:
dark romance, fated mates, killer hero, killer heroine, Menage/Polyamory, Paranormal Romance, reverse harem, Shapeshifter Romance, vampire romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

Fingers dragged across the surface of the vertical glass tank, the liquid within the deep burgundy of a finely aged wine. However, this fluid would never be found in a corked bottle. A pity, since only the finest vintage of blood had been used. Only the best would do.

A hint of movement within the enclosed capsule gave hope and led to a whispered, “Soon, my love. Soon we shall be together.”

Regeneration took time, especially with grievous wounds. However, there were ways of speeding up the process. Hence the need for only the most rare and delicious of blood.

A whisper in the mind hinted of hunger, indicating a need to refresh the contents of the tank.

“Patience. A fresh supply shall be arriving momentarily.” Acquiring subjects who would donate to the tank had become slightly more challenging, as those being hunted now took more precautions.

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The brief moment of connection faded. At least they’d been happening more often of late.

Long strides brought them from the vault protecting the tank. It clanged shut behind and hissed as it sealed. No chances would be taken, for death had already come much too close to the one cherished above all.

The many barriers, installed to protect, opened and shut behind with but a thought. No key existed for these portals by design. Only those accompanied and with permission could enter. The servants used to perform maintenance didn’t retain any memories of their chores. None could know, not until the time was ripe.

Rising to a level above brought them to the preparation area where they collected the precious and necessary blood. Or would have collected, if not for the empty cages. The last of the subjects had been drained. Soon, though, new donors would fill those spots. They’d sacrifice the ripest among them to the tank, while those who lacked the right kind of richness to their blood would be put to other use.

Past the blood collection chamber, they entered the transformation wing, also sitting empty, the last of the latent Lycans either transformed or dead. The process to change them had proven tricky. The torture protocol hadn’t been difficult to conduct. Even better, the enjoyment found in making the subjects scream and plead for a mercy that wouldn’t be forthcoming. It was the other element of the transformation recipe that had been more elusive. The transformation required pain, that of the body and soul, as well as a true mating to activate a latent’s dormant wolf. Many dormants failed to make the transition, not because they didn’t scream in agony but more because the true mates of the latents proved difficult to find.

Hence why, unlike Morpheus, they expanded their scope. While dormants would still be acquired, it was time for the Lycans to also do their part. Already some thralls, their minds initially captured by Morpheus and Roderick, remained nestled amongst some of the packs. Working from within, their subtle treachery moving the plan forward.

Those that didn’t feed the tank would grow the army that would soon be unleashed upon the world, starting a war neither Lycan nor humanity suspected—or could stop.

The time for living in the shadows had passed, even as many on the vampire council refused to accept this new truth. Fools. It would seem in the centuries they’d spent buried in their dark prison they’d learned nothing. The explosion of social media and cameras capturing every event of people’s lives made keeping the secret of vampires and Lycans next to impossible, so might as well force the revelation and get it over and done with.

If all went according to plan, though, there would be no repeat of the era where pitchfork and torch-wielding peons hunted nonhumans almost to extinction. The mundane that multiplied like roaches might have access to weaponry and greater numbers, but it would take only a few key players in government to hamstring any attempt at defense.

A scuffing approach had them whirling. Shadows gathered as a cloak to cover them head to toe.

The young man who entered sniffed and looked around before calling out. “Master?”

The shadows were released to reveal their presence. “What do you want?”

The groveling dog, barely more than a pup, threw themselves prostrate at their feet and, with face pressed to the floor, reported, “The hunters have reached the town of Moon Dew.”

As planned but obviously something had gone amiss. “What is the issue?”

“One of them is questioning your orders.”

That raised a brow. It would seem one of the conscripted Lycans pushed against the command planted in their mind. “And what do we do with a disobedient dog?”

The boy shuddered before whispering, “They will be handled.”

A crouch brought them close to the quivering pup. “Do you have an issue with my order?”

“No, Master.”

“Good. Now, run along and ensure my command is carried out. I expect to see the cages full by morning.”

“Yes, Master.” The young rogue scampered off. Obedient and eager to please. The young were always so much easier to turn. Mature men, often set in their stubborn ways, fought hardest against the vampire control placed upon them. Their ability to resist, though, made them still necessary. Children, while much more malleable, lacked the strength and skill of their elders. Not to mention, the youngest and most trainable were still needed by the beloved.

Such a shame they’d been harder to acquire of late, as the dog packs rallied and closed ranks. While they didn’t understand the true nature of their foe, they grasped the threat, unlike the dormants. That ostracized and banished group had no warning. No pack to protect them. Even better, some of latents had chosen to gather into their own communities, such as the one in Moon Dew. How kind of them to cluster in one place for the culling that was about to come.

It wouldn’t be long before humans and Lycans alike began to realize something was amiss, but by then, it would be too late. Once darkness consumed the world, there would be only two choices left.

Serve, or die.

Chapter 1

The small town of Moon Dew slept. The houses and few businesses displayed dark windows with the only illumination coming from glowing streetlamps. The dogs—the kind people owned, and not the version that shifted on full moons—didn’t bark. The roads loomed empty without a single set of headlights or purr of a motor. All appeared calm.

Too calm. Sasha didn’t trust it, and with reason. After all, she’d followed a rogue Lycan here. A lone and rabid wolf that, left unchecked, could end up controlled by their enemy.

They’d found the fucker thanks to old-fashioned tracking, a little bit of magic, and the small amount of Roderick’s ashes she’d ingested after Thaddeus tasked her with rounding up the stray Lycans who’d been influenced by Roderick.

For the unknowing, Roderick used to be a monstrous blend of werewolf and vampire, an impossibility somehow brought into being by the late vampire queen—a queen later murdered by her own creation. But Roderick didn’t stop there. As an alpha, he had the power to subvert and control Lycans, turning them into murderers. Despite Roderick’s eventual demise, those thralls continued to cause trouble.

With Roderick dead, his thralls were leaderless and dangerous. She knew immediately that her target was Lycan, due to his scent, and previously touched by Roderick, due to the red spark in his eyes when their gazes met and the curl of his lip.

Sasha intended to take him into custody and question whether there were more in the area. However, a gaggle of humans had passed between her and the dog, giving him a chance to jump in a car and speed off—but not before she’d memorized the license plate.

A search through databases not accessible by the public revealed the car to be a rental, paid for in cash, with the only paperwork useless, as they’d used a fake driver’s license. A good thing she knew a hacker. Her friend and fellow flock member, Pierrot, managed to forge a link between the vehicle’s onboard navigation and an app he’d installed on her phone. Hence how they followed the car with the mind-poisoned rogue.

Of course, following would have been easier if an accident hadn’t occurred literally right in front of them, forcing them to sit in traffic and allowing the rogue to acquire an annoying lead. How she wished she’d stuck with her Mustang, but Pierrot had insisted on switching out to one of the flock’s standard SUVs for safety and space in case they took rogues in for questioning. In truth, Pierrot hated how fast she drove in the convertible, but at least that speed would have helped them make up for time. As it was, the rogue’s vehicle had been stopped in Moon Dew for more than an hour by the time they caught up.

The other flock members assigned by Thaddeus had pulled up mere moments before she did. She parked behind their SUV on the outskirts of town, and Tim, Anabel, and Jorge exited to greet her and Pierrot then hold a brief discussion.

“Do you think this is where Roderick’s remaining thralls are hiding out?” Tim asked. The freckled vampire peered around as if he could spot their lair.

“Doubtful,” Sasha replied.

“The car is not parked outside a house or building,” Pierrot added. The rogue had left it on the shoulder of the road by a gas station closed for the night.

“Maybe he’s inside the garage,” she murmured, stalking over for a sniff. The stench of gasoline overpowered, and she caught nothing.

“Something’s wrong,” Anabel murmured, sidling close.

Sasha glanced around. “Agreed.” It took her a moment to figure out what bothered. “It’s too quiet.”

Jorge joined them, hands shoved in his pockets. “Probably because it’s like one in the morning.”

True, but she couldn’t shake the sense of something amiss. “Spread out,” Sasha ordered.

Pierrot and Tim headed off to the left, while Anabel and Jorge flitted right. As for Sasha, she strode straight up the middle of the road, head constantly swiveling, seeking any sign of movement, following the fresh scent of Lycans on foot.

Four, if her nose wasn’t wrong.

As she walked, the uncanny silence pressed down. Yes, it was late, and people would be abed, but her skin prickled with suspicion.

The trail she followed diverged from the road and led her to the front door of a bungalow with light blue siding and a tidy front yard. It didn’t look like a rogue lair and yet, at the same time, would be the perfect cover.

She lifted her hand and waited while her companions quietly joined her. She held up four fingers and inclined her head toward the house. They got the hint. Anabel and Jorge infiltrated the backyard, covering the rear, while Pierrot and Tim split up to watch the east and west sides of the house in case the rogues chose to escape via a window.

As for Sasha, she would use the front door. She expected to have to force her way inside, only a turn of the knob showed it unlocked. The moment it opened a scent wafted out. A familiar one.

Death.

She quickly entered—because, unlike certain movies and books, she didn’t need an invitation—and checked through the home before she emerged and uttered a piercing whistle that drew her companions.

“What happened to sneaking up on the rogues?” Jorge questioned as he came into sight.

“They’re long gone.” Her grim reply.

“How can you be sure? Their car is still here,” Anabel pointed out.

“They either had a second vehicle or stole one, because the bodies inside have been dead at least an hour.” The congealed blood told the time. “Looks like the adult female, human, was gutted by a knife. The infant, a human male, was torn apart by something with claws.”

“Since when do the rogues slaughter humans?” Anabel questioned.

“I don’t know, but it appears as if they didn’t kill them all, going by the family photos and personal effects that suggest the house also had a male occupant and a second child who are missing.”

“Perhaps they weren’t home,” Pierrot murmured.

“Do you really believe that?” Sasha scoffed. More likely they were taken to feed Morpheus, a high-ranking vampire who had long been a thorn in the side of her boss, Thaddeus.

“I wonder if they hit other homes.” Tim glanced at the other dark abodes.

Without a word, they split up and began entering them, finding the same scenario played out over and over. Slaughtered families, young and old, all human but for one: they discovered a single Lycan male butchered outside one home. An innocent or one of the rogues? If going by smell alone, then Sasha leaned toward the latter, but it didn’t seem like he was killed by one of the residents in self-defense. There was nothing to suggest a scuffle. He’d clearly been ambushed. So why, then, did they kill one of their own? Could it be he’d balked at the slaughter?

Most of the houses they’d searched showed indications some folks had been taken, without rhyme or reason. Young, old, male and female. What set them apart? Thaddeus probably could have answered, but the boss tended to keep things close until he felt it necessary to divulge

Another interesting fact? The rogue she’d been tracking had been joined by others. By Sasha’s reckoning of the various scents, a dozen converged on the small town, and she had to wonder why this particular place.

“Seems to me the rogues who did this are gone,” Pierrot remarked as the flock converged in the middle of the street.

“And left behind the rental we followed, meaning we have nothing to track,” Tim added.

What no one said, but all understood? The mission was a total bust.

Or so Sasha thought until a hint of sound distracted. She froze in place and closed her eyes to concentrate, sifting scents, analyzing sounds. A whisper of movement sent her running, sprinting across a yard, vaulting a bush. The other vamps joined her, if more slowly. While Sasha’s mental powers of persuasion might not be the strongest, she didn’t lack for strength and agility.

She quickly outpaced her brethren and caught sight of four fleeing figures, their legs pumping almost as fast as hers, the scent wafting in their wake most definitely canine.

Had the rogues left some of their number behind?

The boss would be pleased if she could capture them alive for questioning. She put on a burst of speed and closed the gap between her and the fleeing group. They headed for a structure on the edge of the town, the cross jutting from the roof indicating a church.

The four dogs barreled through the thick wooden doors and slammed them shut. Sasha’s pace slowed as she heard the thumps and bumps of furniture being moved as they barricaded the entrance.

As if that would stop her.

She stood in front of the door, hands planted on her hips waiting for her brethren to reach her.

“I take it they went inside,” Jorge huffed. The thicker-set vampire wasn’t used to having to chase. While most of their kind enjoyed greater stamina and speed, overindulgence and a lack of exercise made a difference.

“Yeah, they’re in there,” Sasha drawled. The rogues probably mistakenly believed themselves safe. After all, some folks trusted that a church was some kind of holy sanctuary that none would dare attack. Wrong.

Even if those cowering had no clue what Sasha was, it should be noted that no religion on earth could stop a vampire in its tracks. As a matter of fact, only a few things could actually kill a vampire. Direct and prolonged sunlight. The removal of the heart—because a stake injury could be healed, especially with the more seasoned vampires. Beheading was also popular, as few things could survive without a noggin, but again, that depended on the age and what was done to the head and body afterwards. Vampires weren’t easy to kill. A good thing, since pretty much everyone and everything hated them. Not that she cared how her dinners felt.

Sasha waved a hand. “Spread out and cover all the entrances. Windows, too, just in case. I’ll see if I can convince them to come out.” Doubtful, because without direct eye contact or touch, she’d have difficulty mesmerizing. However, chatting up her prey would give her team a chance to get in position before they slammed their way in.

Once her companions moved off, Sasha sauntered to the door with a nonchalance her once-human self would have envied. She’d been a street rat before Thaddeus found her. Living off the discards of others. Stealing what she needed to survive. A pathetic young girl who’d run away from the abuse at home, only to find out the world could be just as cruel. But she stopped being a victim when Thaddeus turned her into a vampire.

With hands planted on her hips, Sasha called out to those cowering inside the church. “I know you’re in there.”

No reply.

“Are you going to open the door and cooperate like good little dogs, or am I going to have to drag your asses out?”

“Fuck off.”

Not an unexpected response.

“You know,” she commented casually, “in the story, it’s supposed to be the wolf outside the building, threatening to huff and puff if the little pigs don’t come out.”

“I prefer the one where the wolf eats the annoying girl,” replied the same deep voice.

“You’d have to open the door to even try,” Sasha’s riposte.

“We’re not fucking stupid. We saw what you did to the people in town.”

Her brow arched. They thought Sasha and her companions responsible? Nice try. She wouldn’t fall for their deflection tactic; however, for shits and giggles, she would play along. “That wasn’t me or my friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.” She found it highly improbable they weren’t involved. Not surprising? That they claimed innocence. “We came across this town tracking some rogues but arrived a touch too late. Or not. After all, it appears you were left behind.”

“We didn’t kill no one,” a reedy voice exclaimed, leading to grumbling from the others inside. “I will not shut up,” huffed the same guy. “We didn’t do nuthin’.”

“If you’re so innocent, then why hide?” Sasha countered.

“Because we’re not going to end up as some newspaper headline,” snarled the guy with the deep timber.

“You can’t hide in there forever.”

“Just long enough for the authorities to arrive,” exclaimed the high-pitched one, which led to more hushed arguing as his friends tried to shut him up.

Had they truly called for help? If yes, then Sasha’s team had little time before they needed to vacate.

“You know you sound rather coherent for murdering psychopaths,” she remarked, eyeing the door and its hinges, seeking out a weak spot. “Thralls are usually less interested in meaningful conversation and more intent on killing.”

“We’re not murderers,” growled Mr. Deep.

“As if you’d admit to it. Tell me, did you enjoy killing the weak in this town? Slaughtering innocent babes and their parents? Such tough doggies.”

“We didn’t kill anyone!” retorted the man.

“Says the wolf.” Her chuckled reply. “Or are you going to tell me you’ve never killed?”

“Only wild animals. Can you say the same?”

“Nope.” She popped the P. “And I’ll be killing again before the night is over. The question is, which of you will die first?” No point in letting them know she planned to capture them. Fear could work wonders when other methods of persuasion failed.

“If you didn’t murder the folks in town, then who did?” A new voice entered the chat.

“Your fellow rogues. Duh.” She rolled her eyes.

“For the last time, we’re not in league with whoever did this,” snapped the deepest voice. “Not to mention, why would we kill family?”

Hold on. Did these four wolves have ties to this town? Could it be these males had somehow escaped the rogues that swept through? Were they some of the ones who were missing from the houses?

“If they’re your family, then why didn’t you stop the murders?” she asked.

“We arrived too late,” a soft, disgruntled reply.

“Arrived from where? It’s an odd time to be out and about.” Unless you were nocturnally inclined, like a vampire.

“We got a call from—”

Someone cut off the one spilling. “Shut the fuck up, Omar.”

“Actually, let him speak,” she interjected. “Your reply might very well decide your fate.”

“You already said you planned to kill us,” Mr. Deep reminded.

“That was when I assumed you were some of the murderers. If you’re innocent—”

“We are! As if I’d kill my aunt,” exclaimed one of them, the last part of the statement cracking.

“As I was saying, if you’re innocent, then you have nothing to fear from me. But I will require you come with me and answer some questions.” The more they spoke, the less they seemed like mindless thralls. Perhaps they were telling the truth.

“The answer is still fuck off.”

“I get better results when I fuck on. Preferably on top.” She liked to control the ride. “Now, be nice doggies and open the door.”

“Not happening.” A low rumbled denial.

“You’ve got until the count of three. One.”

Sudden yells from inside indicated her brethren had breached the church.

She crossed her arms and waited on the other side of the door, as there were thumps and yells but no blood-curdling death cries. Good. She needed them for questioning.

In short order, the tussling ceased and the door swung open. Sasha took in the sight of the sulking doggies, four of them in total, their clothing, unstained by blood, adding credence to their claim that they weren’t part of the murders.

Hair mussed. Lips swelling from blows. Eyes glaring.

Handsome lot. Late twenties to early thirties. Thick heads of hair, fit bodies. Even the wimpiest of them would probably taste delicious.

“Don’t you even think of tasting me,” hissed the one with the deep voice, a burly fellow with a glare that gave her tingles.

Oops, she’d said the last part aloud. Her lips curved. “I promise you’d enjoy it.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That can also be arranged. For the moment, though, you will come with us.”

“As if we have a choice,” a bitter reply from the skinniest of the group.

“You’re right. You don’t have a choice, and I suggest you behave during transport, or I, and my friends, might decide one of you is expendable as a snack.”

Mr. Deep’s jaw stiffened. “You’re not Lycan.”

“No shit, Puppy Chow.” Sasha smirked. “Can you take a guess as to what I really am?” While some Lycans knew of vampires, the revelation was recent and not common knowledge.

“You smell…” Mr. Deep pursed his lips as his nostrils flared. “Not human.”

“Correct.” She nodded toward her fellows. “Pierrot, why don’t you smile for the wolf?”

Her companion flashed his pointed fangs, and Omar recoiled at the sight of them, unlike his buds, who only gaped in shock.

Mr. Deep sounded incredulous as he said, “You’re vampires?”

To which Sasha replied, “Someone give the smart puppy a bone.”

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Magic and Kings Collection One (Books 1 – 3)

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Book Cover: Magic and Kings Collection One (Books 1 - 3)
Find a Store
Part of the Magic and Kings series:
  • The Barbarian King’s Assassin
  • The Desert King’s Spy
  • The Pirate Queen’s Captive
  • The Warlord’s Lady
  • Magic and Kings Collection One (Books 1 – 3)
Enter a world where sorcery and monsters exist. This romantasy bundle will please those who love an intricate fantasy world where romance blossoms between royals and their foes.
This collection includes previously released titles:
• The Barbarian King’s Assassin ~ Rather than kill the King, an assassin finds herself working for him. Their unexpected alliance unravels secrets from their past, but also forges a path to love.
• The Desert King’s Spy ~ When Asharee is asked spy on the king, she discovers more than expected. For one, Daksh sees right through her deception - and still wants her.
• The Pirate Queen’s Captive ~ Zora is a Queen without an island to rule. Cast adrift, she turns to pirating to feed her people and as luck would have it, has captured her biggest prize. The man she never forgave for breaking her heart.
Immerse yourself in these action-packed adventures where danger lurks around every corner, but love prevails.

 

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Published: 2024-08-01
Cover Artists:
SLM Creations
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, epic fantasy, Fantasy Romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, pirate romance, Romantasy, royalty romance
Tags:
english
If you like Magic and Kings Collection One (Books 1 - 3), you might be interested in:
Book Cover: Werewolf Noel

Werewolf Noel

Book Cover: Lucifer's Daughter

Lucifer's Daughter

Book Cover: Scythe & Souls Collection (Books One to Three)

Scythe & Souls Collection (Books One to Three)

The Warlord’s Lady

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Part of the Magic and Kings series:
  • The Barbarian King’s Assassin
  • The Desert King’s Spy
  • The Pirate Queen’s Captive
  • The Warlord’s Lady
  • Magic and Kings Collection One (Books 1 – 3)

This warlord doesn’t believe in magic - or love - until he meets a very special lady.

Something evil is lurking in the mountains and Kormac doesn’t know how to fight an enemy that can’t be seen or touched.

While a warlord hates asking for aid, he can’t allow his pride to get in the way. He requests assistance from the witch queen—in secret, of course, because magic isn’t real. Or wasn’t in his corner of the world, until now.

Fionna, the witch who arrives to evaluate the situation, is unlike anyone he’s ever met. Bold. Fearless. Beautiful…

He didn’t count on how much she would test his patience—and his control.

As they work to squash the danger spreading from the mountains, and she impresses him with her skill and courage, he starts to wonder if she’s the lady he’s been waiting for. His mother certainly doesn’t think so, but Kormac didn’t become warlord by allowing others to make decisions for him.

However, taking her as his wife will depend on them surviving the machinations of the evil entity that’s returned to take its vengeance.

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Published: 2024-09-26
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
epic fantasy, Fantasy Romance, forbidden love, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Romantasy, royalty romance, Witch Romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

Fionna splashed in the puddle by her house. Mama had told her to stay inside while she ran errands, but the sunshine beckoned, as did the hollow in the yard, full of water from the rain.

Splash.

The stomp of her foot shot up water that soaked her tunic, but she didn’t shiver in the warm fall sunshine. Her little feet stamped, and she wondered why Mama had forbidden her to be outdoors. She’d tucked Fionna away ever since those men on big horses had ridden past their home the day before.

Speaking of which, one trotted into view. A large male with a full beard riding a brown horse with white spots.

“Hello there,” he said with a smile that showed yellow teeth.

“Hi.” Mama had told her to not talk to strangers, but she’d also taught her to not be rude.

READ MORE

“Are your parent’s home?” he asked, glancing at the hut where she lived with Mama. Papa had been put in the earth in the spring, taken by a fever that also claimed her younger brother.

She shook her head.

“Well then, I should keep you company,” he stated, sliding off his horse.

At his wide grin, a frisson of unease went through Fionna, and she took a step back. “I don’t need company. Mama will be back soon.”

“Then we best be quick.” He lunged and she shrieked, darting out of his reach, racing for the hut. Her fast little legs got her inside and she slammed the door shut but couldn’t get the bar across in the hooks. The door was kicked open and the big man stood in the doorway, his smile no longer friendly.

Fionna retreated, but there was nowhere to flee in the small space.

“Be a good girl now. Don’t make me hurt you,” he cajoled.

“Get out of my house!” Mama’s shriek from outside relieved Fionna who didn’t understand what the man wanted.

The big fellow whirled. “Mind your business.”

“Excuse me? This is my home, and you have no right to enter it.”

“And who’s going to stop me?” The man stepped out of the doorway and Fionna crept forward to watch.

Mama stood a few paces from the man, her market basket hanging from her arm, looking fierce, but also frightened. “The Duke won’t—”

“Won’t know a damned thing because you’ll keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.”

“Leave and I won’t have to say anything.” Mama’s chin tilted.

“I’ll leave when I’ve done my business.”

“You have no business here,” Mama insisted.

“Will you shut up for a coin?” The man held out his hand and Mama recoiled.

“What kind of demon are you? Trying to buy a child?” Mama screeched. “Wait until the Duke hears.”

“Oh no he won’t,” growled the man. “Nattering nag.” The man lunged for Mama, who swung her basket. It connected with the man but didn’t stop him from grabbing her by the neck and lifting her.

Mama’s eyes bulged. Fear filled them and she gasped, “Run, Fionna.”

Fear froze Fionna in place.

Crack.

Mama went limp and the man dropped her and then turned to face Fionna. “Where were we?” The expression on his face terrified.

Once more, Fionna went running, her little legs pumping, and she might have made it to the woods if she hadn’t tripped.

The man fell on her, grabbing at her tunic with one hand, grunting as his other fumbled at the rope holding up his britches. Sheer terror had Fionna trembling, but also fighting like a feral cat. She clawed and thrashed, but he was stronger. As he held her down and tore at her clothing, he told her what he would do.

Awful things.

Cruel things.

Fionna felt her emotions boiling, hot and cold as fear, anger, and desperation churned.

And exploded.

Literally.

The man turned into chunks of bloody meat.

A shocked Fionna lay on the ground, wide-eyed. It took her a moment to realize the threat was gone. She raced back to her mother’s body, but the unseeing eyes brought a wail to her lips.

Mama was dead.

A passing neighbor found her sitting on the ground, holding her mother’s lifeless head. They also saw the remains of the man who’d killed her.

“Come with me girl,” he muttered.

Fionna went in silence with Horatio who brought her to the town magistrate. When questioned, she told them what happened, about the man who’d killed her Mama, and how he’d tried to hurt her but exploded.

“How did he explode?” asked the magistrate.

Fionna shrugged. “Perhaps it was Mama’s ghost protecting me.” What else could it be?

They placed her in a room used for the storage of linens and kept the door locked. She saw no one except the magistrate’s wife, who brought her meals but didn’t speak. She’d open the door, slide in a bowl, and shut it quickly.

Five sleeps later, the door opened, and a woman strode in, her skin the rich brown of the trees in the forest, her hair a lustrous black. Her eyes were a startlingly beautiful shade of green that matched her cloak.

“Hello, Fionna,” the woman greeted her softly.

“Ma’am.” She gave a curtsy to the fine-looking lady.

“I hear you ran into some trouble.”

Fionna bit her lip. “A man killed my Mama.”

“And what happened to the man?” asked the woman.

“He exploded.”

“So I hear. Do you recall how you felt when it happened?”

She shrugged. “Scared. Angry.”

“Has that kind of thing ever occurred before?”

She shook her head.

“May I hold your hand?”

Fionna hesitated only a moment before sliding her small fingers into the woman’s palm. Heat emanated from the woman, a tingle that felt good and brought a smile to her lips. Colors danced before Fionna’s eyes, wispy tendrils that she wanted to pluck.

“That tickles,” she giggled.

“Aren’t you a lovely surprise,” the woman murmured. “Tell me, would you like to leave this room and come with me to a place where you won’t have to be afraid?”

“Is it far?”

“Yes, but we shall ride a horse.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse,” Fionna admitted, wondering if the lady would change her mind.

“Then you shall learn. The place we shall go to has teachers.”

“A school?” Her eyes widened. She’d heard of them. Places of learning for those who could afford it.

“Of sorts. We teach more than just your letters and numbers, though. In addition to lessons, you will have your own room. Proper meals. And fine clothing to wear. What do you think?”

It sounded like a dream. She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Fionna left with the woman, whom she noticed everyone kept a wary distance from. The horse was huge in her eyes, but the woman had no problem lifting Fionna to sit before her on the saddle.

The journey was wondrous, and she learned much. Such as the woman’s name—Amelia—and the fact she was a witch who sought out children with the gift of magic like Fionna. They travelled to Mystic Keep, the home of the reclusive witches in the Acca marshes, a stone fortress with many hidden passages and secrets.

What began as a tragedy turned out to be the best thing for Fionna. She became a novice who caught on to her lessons quickly. As a teen, Amelia took her as an apprentice. By the time she’d turned twenty-one, she’d become a full-fledged witch with a strong gift in all of the elements. When Amelia ascended to the throne, Fionna was by her side, glad to serve the woman who’d changed her life for the better.

She would have most likely never left the Keep if evil hadn’t emerged to plague the world. A world that suddenly had a use for witches.

Chapter 1

Decades later…

 

The soldier arrived in Kormac’s war room dusty and exhausted. According to a whispering Lomar—Kormac’s general who had eyes and ears everywhere—the soldier’s steed collapsed the moment the man slid from its back. Judging by the marks at its mouth and the cold sweat sheening its body, the horse had been ridden hard.

The soldier, unshaven and smelly even from a distance, staggered in Kormac’s direction. The guards he passed did not offer any aid. To do so would be an insult.

Sitting on his throne carved from a single piece of obsidian, Kormac studied the weary man and wondered what had befallen him. He didn’t recognize the fellow, but that didn’t surprise. His horde numbered in the thousands.

“Warlord.” The man dropped to a knee and thumped his chest while dipping his head in respect.

“Your name?” Kormac asked while wondering why his forearms tingled where his long sleeves hid the bracers he wore tight to the skin. An odd sensation that he’d never experienced before.

“I am Ioan, formerly of Greenhead Valley, Warlord. I come bearing grave news from the garrison at the Risead Pass.” A pass to the far east of Kormac’s territory, eternally guarded despite the lack of civilization past it. The Andeir mountain range separated them from the valley of mist beyond it.

Many didn’t understand why the warlords—not just Kormac, but those who came before him, as well—kept sending soldiers to the Risead Pass to stand watch. It seemed pointless and yet “Guard the Risead Pass” was part of his oath when he took command. That was it. No reason given as to why, but out of respect for his ancestors, he still did it to this day.

Kormac’s brow arched. “A long journey. You’d best have a good reason for abandoning your post.”

“Not abandoned, Warlord. Sent by Lieutenant Khaal, the garrison commander, due to an emergency.”

“An emergency that merited you travelling leagues and days rather than sending a message by bird.” The fort at Risead kept a coop of kalmais, birds trained to fly back and forth between the Wexkord, the capital of Srayth, and whatever garrison they were assigned. Using the birds avoided delays in imparting important developments.

“The kalmais are dead, Warlord. Everyone is,” Ioan blurted.

The news rocked Kormac, and it took him a second to control his reaction. His nearby general didn’t hide his expression of shock.

“Everyone?” Lomar asked in a low tone.

The soldier nodded.

Disturbing news, and not something that should be common knowledge until Kormac knew more.

“Lomar, clear the room,” Kormac ordered his second as he eyed the guards at the far end of the room manning the doors. Far enough they shouldn’t have heard, and even if they had, they knew better than to talk. Still, best to not test them. He’d hate to have to make an example because of loose lips.

Lomar shooed the guards from the room and barred the doors to avoid interruption. As this occurred, Kormac stared at the soldier who’d left his post to bring this dire news in person. Stared long enough the man fidgeted. He should, after claiming to be the sole survivor of a garrison a hundred men strong.

Once Lomar reached his side, Kormac growled, “Explain.”

“The troubles started with Peol. He was the first to go missing. Went on patrol in the Pass and never returned. We assumed one of the maakath got him.” Aggressive creatures that were part bear, part feline, and lived in the higher elevations.

“You didn’t find a body?” Lomar clarified.

Ioan shook his head. “Haag and Wexl went looking for him and never reported back. Neither did the next pair of trackers. which led to Lieutenant Khaal doubling up the patrols from two to four men.”

Kormac said nothing and waited for the man to take a breath.

The soldier’s voice dipped. “Even with four men, it didn’t stop the disappearances. We lost two more groups before Lieutenant Khaal suspended the patrols.”

“Suspended the patrols? The whole point of the garrison is to watch over the Pass,” Kormac remarked. Never mind the fact nothing but maakath and other high-altitude beasts had ever been seen in that cold and barren gash through the mountain.

“The lieutenant knew you’d be displeased but he didn’t want to lose more men. He decided to set baited traps at the entrance to the Pass and around the garrison. Freshly slaughtered lamb along with live ones. Whatever took out the missing soldiers didn’t take the meat. Rather, it toyed with us by tossing the bait aside and replacing it with those who went to check in the traps.”

Lomar interjected, “Replaced? That kind of action doesn’t sound like an animal.”

“And yet, what was done…” Ioan swallowed hard. “I saw the bodies. They’d been strung in the snares, heads cracked open, innards pulled from their stomachs.”

Savage, but most definitely not the actions of an animal. Hungry beasts ate what they hunted.

Kormac tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne. “So many dead and yet I never heard anything? Your tale seems unlikely.”

“Up to this point, Khaal still assumed we dealt with a maakath or another beast gone rabid. The display made of those men forced the lieutenant to realize we might be dealing with something more. He wrote a missive to you.” The man fumbled at his jerkin, leading Lomar to put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “However, he couldn’t send it. When he went to the aerie, not only were the birds all gone, Unwe—their keeper—was dead, too.”

“Something infiltrated the garrison.” A quiet statement.

“That’s what we all assumed even as we couldn’t figure out how. There’s only one door to get in, and it was never left unguarded. The lieutenant doubled the garrison perimeter guards. Ensured the entrance was secured. It didn’t help. Every night after, we lost several men.”

“Several?” Lomar burst out. “And you’re telling us you found no culprit? Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth,” Ioan insisted. “It was eerie as none of those killed screamed or even struggled. The next morning we’d just find them, some killed in their bunks, others left eviscerated on the parapets.”

“Always killed in the same fashion?” Kormac asked to clarify.

“Mostly. Slices to the gut were the most common. Some got it across the neck, too. A few had their heads caved in.” Ioan paused and took a breath before continuing. “After the third night of losses, and down more than thirty soldiers, Khaal ordered us to saddle up and ride out.”

“Abandoning his post rather than digging out the root of the problem.” Kormac’s lip curled. He had no patience for cowardice.

Ioan tried to defend his lieutenant’s actions. “What else could he do? We couldn’t figure out how and who was killing us.”

“So, you deserted and what? Knowing of their disgrace the rest of the garrison fled, leaving you to be the only messenger. Brave of you to volunteer.” Kormac’s smile had the soldier quaking.

“No, it wasn’t like that. We were supposed to leave together. The night before our departure, whatever hunted us went after the horses. We woke to find them slaughtered in the barn. The soldiers guarding them, more than a half dozen, left in pieces.”

“And yet you arrived on a horse?” Lomar pointed out.

“By chance. A mare running a fever had been housed separately in case she proved to be contagious. With only one steed left, and no birds, Khaal entrusted me with his messages explaining what happened and told me to bring them directly to you.”

“You said earlier everyone died. How would you know that if you left?” Kormac questioned, clenching his fists. His arms still tingled, and he wondered why but couldn’t exactly pull up his sleeves in the middle of an audience for a peek.

“I don’t know for sure.” Ioan’s lips turned down. “Khaal was supposed to have those remaining barricade themselves in the watchtower. He promised to light the signal every night at dusk. On my third night of travel, it failed to appear.”

Dire news if true. What could have killed an entire garrison of soldiers? And how could it have been unseen?

Kormac stared at Ioan before asking, “What do you think attacked them?”

“The puuka.” The fabled ghosts that lived in the land of mist beyond the mountains, not real, and yet some believed in their existence. Blame the stories passed down through generations, speaking of monsters and magic, neither of which existed.

Ioan’s reply led to Lomar blustering, “That is superstitious nonsense. Most likely either a stealthy invader or a wild animal.”

“Animals that can open locked doors without leaving a trace? Animals that can sneak up on a man and kill him without a single scream escaping?” Ioan became agitated.

“Probably asleep at their posts.” A denigrating reply from Lomar, but in his defense, those sent to the garrison were the weakest of the horde. The slovenly, the poorer fighters, the disgraced. A posting to the Risead Pass was the ultimate insult to a soldier as it meant they were deemed not good enough to defend the citadel or their borders.

“Who else have you told about this?” Kormac asked.

“No one, Warlord. I rode straight and hard here to give you the news.”

“Where are the other missives Khaal entrusted with you?”

The man dug in his tunic and pulled out a parchment, rolled and bound with wax. Kormac gripped it but didn’t open it to read. First, he had to deal with the soldier.

“Lomar, have Ioan escorted to a cell. One away from the others. He is to speak to no one.”

“You’re punishing me?” The man seemed shocked.

“As if I’m going to believe your wild tale without confirmation. Lomar is right. It is implausible that an entire garrison would be wiped out without a single sign of the enemy.”

“But it’s the truth,” Ioan exclaimed.

“Then you won’t mind sojourning in a cell while I verify it.” He glanced to Lomar. “Ensure no one is allowed near him. I don’t need him spreading rumors and panicking the populace.”

“As you command, Warlord.” Lomar stepped forward to grab Ioan by the arm.

Ioan didn’t go quietly. “You have to listen to me. There is a grave danger brewing in the Pass. My great-grandmother lived her whole life in Greenhead Valley only a day’s ride from the garrison and she used to tell stories of a monster that lurked within the caves of Andeir.”

“There are no caves and stories are just that, stories.” As a young man, Kormac’s father had taken him to their eastern mountain and shown him the Pass saying, “We don’t know why the oath insists we guard Risead Pass but our ancestors must have had their reason and so we honor their wishes.”

“What if it’s true? What if that’s why the garrison is there, to protect against monsters?” Ioan shouted as Lomar dragged him away.

“Then you failed, and you know what the punishment for that is.” There was no mercy for deserters.

“And you’ll fail too,” Ioan snapped. “It’s easy for you to judge. You weren’t there.”

Kormac’s lips pinched at the insult. Lomar took it even worse. He knocked the pommel of his sword against Ioan’s temple and the man collapsed.

“Mouthy coward,” the warlord’s second muttered.

“All the more reason to keep him separate. Make sure you tell no one,” Kormac advised unnecessarily.

“No shit,” Lomar muttered. “Imagine thinking ghosts and monsters are real.”

“They aren’t, but I’ll still want you to head out and make sense of the situation.”

“Aye, Warlord. I’ll leave for the garrison in the morning.”

“Excellent.”

Lomar left with a limp Ioan slung over his shoulder. Once the door shut, the odd sensation in his arms disappeared. Kormac still pulled up his sleeve but there was nothing to see. Just the dull metal of his bracers, intricate in appearance, inherited from the last warlord, their version of a crown.

He pushed the fabric back over his arms before opening the first missive Khaal supposedly meant to send. It held a brief recap of what Ioan told him.

Warlord. This is Lieutenant Khaal of Risead Pass informing you we’ve lost some soldiers in the line of duty. I’ve included the names so you can compensate the families. Most likely a maakath is to blame. They’ve been nosing around the garrison of late instead of staying in the mountains. I’ve assembled a hunting team. Expect some skins if successful.

Maakath fur made great winter cloaks.

The first note seemed normal, advising him of the deaths so the families could be notified. The second, though, seemed as if written by a different person. Khaal’s usually tight and concise writing, a shaky scrawl. It began with an apology.

Sorry Warlord, I have failed you. The garrison is just about lost to an enemy we cannot detect. If you receive this, then Ioan will have told you of the deaths. Or should I say, the slaughtering of the soldiers in my care. I should have sent you notice with the first kill, but I thought I could handle it. Whatever hunts us is wily. It leaves no trace. No tracks. It can enter rooms with closed doors. Awake or asleep, it does not seem to matter. We have locked ourselves in the tower and will take turns keeping watch. I still have hope we can stop whatever is killing us. If we fail, tell my family I love them.

There had to be an explanation. Something that vicious and wily didn’t suddenly start murdering. Whatever the case, Lomar would sniff it out and when they found out who dared to attack Srayth, he’d bring the horde down on their head and make them regret ever being born.

Chapter 2

Dinner time passed normally, the snippets of conversation Kormac overheard—and those Lomar spied upon—made no mention of the soldier from the Pass. Despite the flirting from several of the women in attendance, Kormac was not in the mood for company and ended up going to bed alone.

Perturbed by the day’s events, he found himself wondering what could have happened to the garrison. If Ioan could be believed, then it seemed unlikely a wild animal had killed all those soldiers. So what did that leave?

Most likely a new enemy. Many envied his territory, rich in metals mined in their numerous mountains, and an exporter of the best horses in the world. But it had been more than two decades since anyone last raided one of the outer villages in the north. While some tried to sneak in via the northern bluffs hundreds of feet above an angry sea, most vessels sank before any managed the long climb. Those that did attempt the treacherous ascent were easily picked off by Sraythians who guarded their northern coast.

To the south, Srayth’s relationship with Ulkruuba had been good for more than a century and their trading strong.

West lay Acca, the land of the supposed witches who’d spent centuries keeping to themselves, most likely because their kind were executed until recently, as Srayth took a hard line against charlatans who pretended to do magic.

That left the east, past the Andeir mountains, which he would have thought impossible. The mists beyond that range were known to swallow people and never spit them out.

No likely scenarios. Still, a complacent warlord wasn’t a long-lived one.

Given the decimation of the force watching the Pass, he’d have to replenish the garrison, perhaps with a better cadre of soldiers, until they’d assessed the threat.

The severity of the situation meant Lomar would be taking some soldiers with him. Perhaps Kormac would visit as well. It had been a while since he’d been to the Pass. His duties kept him tied to the citadel more than he liked. He missed the freedom of being his father’s heir and second, riding out to inspect garrisons, quelling disputes, conducting drills close to the border to remind their flanking neighbors not to tangle with them.

The more he thought of it, the more a trip sounded like a fine plan. His mother would most likely argue. His father, who’d retired from the warlord position, would understand, though. Sometimes a leader had to act in person instead of via an intermediary.

With that decided, Kormac fell asleep, a dreamless state that should have taken him to morning, only he woke suddenly. That never happened without reason.

He noticed the tingling in his arms had returned. Could that have been what woke him?

A still Kormac pretended sleep, keeping his breathing even, and listened, not just with his ears but with instincts honed by years of his father’s lessons, some of which included nighttime attacks. Nothing like being suddenly roused in the night at a tender age and expected to fight off a man twice his size. But his father never did anything without reason, and those lessons paid off.

Move. Now!

He rolled almost too late. The dagger swiped down and plunged into the pillow where the indent of his head still showed in the strange purple glow emanating from his bracers. Odd, they’d never illuminated before. But forget his ornamental armor. An assassin, how exciting. It had been ages since anyone tried to kill him in person.

Kormac bounded out of bed, his hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade he slept with. Without pause, he swung.

There was no sound as his sword slashed the assassin across the torso, a killing blow, the only kind anyone should ever use in a fight. His father always said, “Dead men can’t stab you in the back.” Good advice, except for the part where they couldn’t answer questions after.

As the figure slumped to the floor, Kormac leaned over and struck the flint attached to the lantern kept by his bedside. The oil within ignited, illuminating the glass. He saw the identity of the assassin: none other than the garrison soldier, a man who should have still been locked in a cell. Someone must have released Ioan since those cells were escape-proof. In the decades they’d been using them, no one had ever broken free, meaning the citadel had a traitor. Kormac would enjoy seeking them out and making an example of them.

He wiped his blade on the body and readied to call someone to remove it when the limbs twitched.

Probably death throes. It happened sometimes. What didn’t usually occur with corpses? The mouth opening to whisper, “This is not the end, descendent of Airiok the Destroyer.”

The sibilant words almost brought a shiver because dead men didn’t talk, and Ioan was most certainly deceased. Between the gaping wound across the torso that exposed the guts, and the copious bleeding that left a huge puddle around the body, there should have been no way Ioan could speak.

Tell that to the dead man whose lips remained parted but didn’t move as it murmured in a raspy voice, “You cannot kill me. My imprisonment is about to end. My spirit set free—”

Smash. The pommel of his sword crushed the skull and silenced the eerie voice. A chill breeze swept past him, bringing goose pimples to his flesh before warmth returned. The bracers on his arms also stopped tingling and glowing.

Hmm. Could they be linked? His bracers had never reacted in such a fashion before. Nor had his father ever mentioned it when he passed them on along with the warlord title. It should be noted, his father had only done so after Kormac proved himself worthy, fighting in the competitions that helped them choose their strongest leader. It just so happened he, like his father and his father before him, was the worthiest. Some claimed Kormac’s family inherited their strength from their ancient ancestor, Airiok, a man who’d supposedly fought monsters and vanquished a great evil. Or so the storytellers told the children. Strange how the dead man had spoken his name.

Kormac stared at the body, which now lay unmoving and unspeaking, but he didn’t trust it and sliced off its head for good measure.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The pounding at his door led to him bark, “Come in.”

A grim Lomar burst into his room, sword out, exclaiming, “The prisoner escaped.”

Kormac nudged the body with his foot. “I found him.”

“Son of a whore,” Lomar swore. “He came after you?”

“With a knife, and he might have killed me, too, if I’d not woken.”

“I wonder if assassination was his intent all along.” Lomar scowled but not as mightily as Kormac.

“Someone let him loose. I want them found.”

“It’s hard to imagine anyone helped him,” Lomar stated with a shake of his head. “The guard who had the key to the cell is dead. I found him in the cell after Melody woke me in hysterics.”

“Melody?” Kormac questioned.

“Kitchen maid. She was bringing the night guards their meal and came across the carnage. It seems Ioan left a string of bodies on his way out of the dungeon. Every single guard in Ioan’s path is dead.”

“All of them?” Kormac couldn’t help his surprise. Ioan hadn’t seemed like the most adept of fighters.

“Yeah. Hence why Melody came screeching to find me. The moment I saw what happened, I came to find you.”

Kormac debated mentioning the voice but decided to keep that information to himself. Dead men didn’t talk.

“Given what the traitor attempted, I’m now more curious than ever as to what really happened at the garrison.” Kormac headed for his wardrobe to change from his nightclothes.

“You think Ioan lied?”

“I think the traitor found a convenient excuse to get inside the citadel.” Already bare-chested, Kormac slid on a shirt, the sleeve catching on the bracers wrapped around his forearms. While ornamental in appearance, they also offered protection when used to block a blow and apparently now occasionally glowed. Why? What about Ioan triggered them?

“I can leave now instead of dawn,” Lomar offered.

“Dawn is soon enough since I’m coming with you,” Kormac stated, ditching his breechcloth for britches.

“Is that wise? We don’t know what we’ll find.”

“Which is why we’ll bring a battalion with us. I want fifty men ready to go by first light.”

They actually set out earlier, the selected soldiers eager to ride, especially since they might get a chance to fight. Peaceful times led to bored soldiers.

Kormac led the battalion with Lomar keeping watch at the rear as they galloped on their war horses, fully outfitted in battle gear. Everyone came armed to the teeth: swords, daggers, bows, axes. Better to be prepared than caught off guard.

It took them several days of hard riding before they came in sight of the mountain named Andeir that stretched as far as the eye could see, impassable due to its height and sheerness but for a single pass. The fort sat on a gravel road a few hundred yards from the passage through the high peaks, the building made of stone blocks, sturdy and old. Very old. Also, highly defensible with only narrow window slits, perfect for firing arrows. A single massive gate at the front led inside to a courtyard and even if someone breached that, the fort itself had a portcullis that could be dropped over its entrance, making it virtually impenetrable. The walls had a slight lean outward, making them difficult to scale. From the base of the path going up, they could see the peaked roof of the watchtower which faced the Pass.

“Leave the horses here,” Kormac ordered, not liking the treacherous look of the road slicked with ice.

Five men were left behind to watch their steeds. The rest of the battalion, led by Lomar and Kormac, set out on foot. The mid-afternoon sun provided a bit of warmth, and yet they’d neither seen nor heard any signs of wildlife. No scampering squirrels or birds. Not even a breeze to rustle the branches. The eerie stillness had them all on edge, the soldiers finding reassurance in gripping their weapons.

Kormac, though, pursed his lips as he glanced around. No sign of anyone or anything.

As they plodded slowly up the road to the gate, Lomar pointed to the ground. The light dusting of snow was undisturbed. “No tracks,” he remarked.

“If it fell overnight that’s not surprising,” Kormac murmured. As they neared the garrison, he noticed the lack of soldiers manning the ramparts. Heard not a single challenge to their approach. To his disquiet, the gate had been left slightly ajar.

Before Kormac could say or do anything, Lomar bolted past, axe in hand. His second wasn’t about to let his warlord walk into an ambush. At least that would be his claim. More likely he wanted first shot at any threat.

Kormac followed more cautiously. His tread crunched in the snow that had crystalized in the sun.

“Seems deserted,” a disappointed Lomar stated as he reappeared.

“Could be they’re hiding.” A glance at the parapet didn’t show any arrow tips or movement but that didn’t mean no one watched. His nape prickled in warning.

“I’ll grab some men and do a sweep,” Lomar stated.

“Take half. I want the rest to do a perimeter sweep,” Kormac commanded as he strode through the gate.

The stench of death hit him immediately and he glanced at Lomar. “When you said deserted…”

“I meant I found no signs of anyone living.” Lomar pointed. “The smell appears to be coming from the stable which would match Ioan’s claim the horses were slaughtered.”

“And left to rot?” Kormac’s brow rose.

“So it seems.”

“Disrespectful,” Kormac grumbled. His people had long valued the stallions and mares that they caught running in the wild and tamed. They were their greatest pride—and their most expensive export. To have them not only slaughtered but then left to rot? Khaal had much to answer for.

Kormac strode into the barn and the smell turned his stomach. Not that he gagged. A warlord couldn’t show weakness.

He glanced inside the stalls to see the remains of the once fine steeds lying where they’d died, their flesh ribboned. Why hadn’t Khaal had them removed?

The courtyard held no bodies. Neither did the main chamber once he entered the fort. The long tables, flanked by benches, held dishes, the food on them moldy. Further investigation resulted in them finding some bodies in the barracks, the soldiers murdered in their beds, the blood long dried, the bodies rigid.

Kormac’s lips tightened at the sight.

Lomar leaned close to murmur, “Think Ioan did this?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Ioan hadn’t seemed strong enough to be able to cause such carnage, but he only had to remember the dungeon to wonder if they’d underestimated the man.

Kormac pointed to some of his soldiers. “Clear the dead.” By clear he meant remove and burn. In his culture, they didn’t bury those who passed. Burying trapped the soul. Only fire could release it from its fleshy prison. The morning they’d left, Ioan’s body had been put on a pyre—a small one made up of trash and not the fine wood used for the soldiers—because even a traitor didn’t deserve to slowly decay.

“Only one place left to check,” Lomar murmured.

The watchtower where Ioan claimed Khaal had barricaded those who’d survived. He didn’t hold much hope for those men, not with the deep silence they’d encountered thus far.

The watchtower sat at the rear of the garrison, facing the pass it guarded. It went a full two stories higher than the fort and had a large window-like opening at the top where not only could someone watch, but a fire could be burned to provide a signal. At least, that was the original intent. The watchtower three days ride away that would have seen it had collapsed during a tremor more than thirty years ago and never been rebuilt. Why bother when they had the birds to communicate? In retrospect, not too smart since whatever enemy they dealt with had eradicated them early on. If not for Ioan, it might have been months before they noticed a problem with the garrison.

The door at the base of the tower, the only entrance, appeared barricaded from the inside. The exterior of the portal was untouched, no scratches on its surface, also no reply to their pounding.

Kormac glanced at Lomar with his massive axe. “Take it down.”

“If I must.” Lomar grimaced. “My poor blade.” He complained but he swung.

Thunk, thunk. His strong strokes splintered the seasoned wood. The thick panel took some time to penetrate and the moment Lomar created a small hole, they could smell it.

Death.

COLLAPSE
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Gentleman and the Witch

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Book Cover: Gentleman and the Witch
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Part of the The Grae Sisters series:
  • The Grae Sisters (Books 1 – 3)
  • Warden and the Assassin
  • Professor and the Seer
  • Gentleman and the Witch

He promised me immortality, but first I must survive a dangerous quest.

Becoming a witch at sixteen started me on my path to greatness. A little hex here. A little spell there. My foes never knew what hit them. That magic became lucrative later on when I started my own business, but surely I am destined to do more than make skincare products for those trying to hold on to their youth.

When a gentleman who claims he used to be a god demands my help, I laugh him off. As if I’m going to put myself in harm’s way for him. However, when my home is destroyed, I decide to join him on his quest for revenge. After all, it turns out we have a common enemy.

What I didn’t expect? To end up fighting for my life on another world. Nor did I think I’d fall in love.

An affair short-lived.

Evildoers might want to use me to advance their cause, but they might end up surprised because I’m not a good witch. I will do anything, even end the world, to avenge those I love.

 

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Published: 2024-06-06
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
dark humor, Fantasy Romance, god romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, Witch Romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

***May contain spoilers.

Chapter One

The phone rang, and given I had caller ID, I answered, “What do you want, French fry? Shouldn’t you be banging your new husband right about now?”

Frieda, my sister—who hated the nickname French fry—had chosen to take up residence in Britain, of all places, putting her about six hours ahead.

“One, we make love. Two, it’s only nine o’clock. And three, you might want to stay inside today.”

I glanced out the window to see sunny skies. “It’s a gorgeous day, and Jinx needs a walk.” Jinx being the love of my life, a temperamental Pomeranian who only loved me—which I was totally fine with.

“If you leave, you are going to become embroiled in something life-altering,” my sister warned.

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“Really?” Well, that might be a nice change. Ever since I’d returned from my trip abroad, I’d been bored. More so than usual. What was the point of having inherited all kinds of magic only to have nowhere to use it?

“I see danger ahead for you,” Frieda added.

“Sweet.”

“You sound just like Enyo when I try to caution her about her choices,” Frieda complained.

My sister could see the future and often used it to nag us. You’d think after almost four decades of knowing each other, she’d have learned we didn’t like the easiest road. I wanted a challenge, whether it be in business or pleasure.

“Excuse me for craving some action.”

“That action might get you killed,” she grumbled.

“Now you’re talking. Is this the kind of danger I can blast to bits?” I’d been practicing my aim, seeing as how I’d recently had reason to invoke combat magic. I dared anyone to tell me it wasn’t awesome that I could shoot lightning from my fingertips.

“I swear, I don’t know why I bother.” Frieda sighed.

“Admit it, you called because you miss me.”

“Miss what? You bullying me to leave the apartment? Mocking my clothes? Telling me a dozen times a day to get laid?”

“You whine, and yet look at you now. Living in a different country, getting railed on a daily basis. The only thing you still need to work on is your wardrobe.” How I had a sister who thought it was okay to match flowered leggings with a striped shirt was beyond me.

“I see you’re going to be contrary, so I’m going to hang up now, but with just one more caution for you to ignore. Keep in mind that evil sorceresses who try to rule the world often end up dead.”

“Do you think I could be evil?” I asked, perusing myself in the mirror by my main door. I wore a cute jogging outfit—not that I jogged—in a light pink with “Juicy” spelled out in glittery letters across my butt.

“Aren’t you already?” was her sour reply.

My lips curved. “No, but I could be.”

“I don’t know why I bother. Bye. Oh, and say hi for me.”

Before I could ask “Say hi to who?” she’d severed the connection, but I didn’t mind. According to her, today was about to get interesting.

“Jinx!” I called my dog, who, of course, didn’t deign to reply. She really hated it when I treated her like a dog. Apparently, she thought herself above not only her own kind but humans too.

I found her in my bedroom, lying atop my pillow, shedding hair on it. Every night I changed the casing for it lest I choke on a strand. It had happened before, usually at three a.m.

My dog didn’t look at me, the human who dared interrupt her nap.

I crooned, “Does baby want to go for a walk?”

Boing. My dog sprang to her feet, her poufy body hiding her short legs. Her tail wagged frantically as she smiled. Yes, smiled. Jinx did love her walks.

“Let’s put a harness dress on. What do you think, polka dots or flowers today?” I had several drawers in the front hall dedicated to outfits for my dog, from adorable frothy dresses to a rubber-ducky-covered raincoat with matching booties. Jinx eschewed my suggestion of a very bright red halter dress with matching leash and chose instead a pink vest studded with rhinestones. Despite the sun, the fall weather had arrived with a sharp wind, so I wore a warm sherpa coat and ankle-high black boots. Like I said, I don’t jog.

We exited the apartment building to bright sunshine, my sudden squint making me wish I’d brought my sunglasses. I breathed in the fresh air of the outdoors, marred by the distinctive reek of cigar smoke. Rare nowadays, given most people had moved to vaping.

A glance showed a figure in a pea coat over slacks, with neatly coiffed hair and a freshly shaven jaw. The gentleman cut a rather elegant figure, though, and had to be new to the neighborhood since we’d never met. Yes, I was nosy enough to want to know who lived on my block. Annoying people were subtly encouraged to move, like that shrill priss who used to live across the street and thought she could lecture me on the joys of veganism. She crossed a line when she started in on my beloved Jinx, claiming some bullshit about pet ownership was akin to slavery and should be abolished. She even dared to unclip the leash and tell my dog to run free.

At the time, a less-than-impressed Jinx glanced at me, and I’d shrugged and said, “Your choice, baby.” Baby chose to chase the annoying twat before returning to me with a smirk. Slave my ass. If anyone held the upper hand in our relationship, it was my dog.

Given that neighbor didn’t learn her lesson and kept haranguing, a few minor spells led to her breaking her lease early. I wondered if it was the roaches or the food constantly rotting in her fridge that led to her snapping.

The gentleman standing at the bottom of my stoop smiled in my direction and my tummy fluttered. What a handsome specimen. He had a matching sexy, deep voice too. “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”

The weather. The inane conversation starter used by people around the world. “We don’t have many left before winter.”

“Indeed, we don’t, Ms. Grae.”

I stiffened. “Excuse me? How do you know my name? Who are you?” My suspicious side immediately wanted to know because this was obviously no chance encounter.

“Not going to guess?”

“I don’t play games.”

“No, you’re usually very direct. A commendable trait.”

“You speak as if you know me.”

“Because I do. You and I are closely linked.”

At that claim, I snorted. “What kind of lame line is that? I don’t know you.”

“True, and yet that doesn’t negate the fact you and I are bound. As are your sisters.”

The mention of my siblings had me narrowing my gaze. “Is this your way of saying you’re my daddy?” I eyed him up and down. “Damn, you must have been a toddler when you impregnated Mom.”

His brows rose. “I am not your father.”

“Is what Luke wishes Vader had said,” I mumbled.

“What? Who is this Luke?”

The way he spoke niggled at me. Like, who didn’t know the infamous Luke and that line from the movie? Somebody who’d not been exposed to any kind of media. Which was impossible if you lived anywhere on Earth these days, unless… “Are you going to keep playing word games, or are you going to tell me who you are?”

“Can’t you guess?”

I crossed my arms.

“I’m the god of monsters, but you may call me Typhon, seeing how you are going to help me retrieve my magic.”

I blinked at him then took my time sizing him up. Tall, well over six feet I realized. I stood on the stoop and still wasn’t eye-to-eye with him. Broad of shoulder, clean-shaven, impeccably dressed. Had to admit, he cleaned up nice. The last time I’d seen Typhon we were in Ariadne’s throne room, and he wore a billowing cloak that covered him head to toe, concealing his face.

“You don’t look like the god of monsters. Aren’t you supposed to have several heads?”

“I can take a monstrous shape if needed, but given humans are easily frightened, this form tends to cause fewer problems.”

I cocked my head. “How do I know you are who you say you are?”

He arched a brow. “Do you often have men introducing themselves as gods?”

“Yes,” I pertly replied. Then I added, “Usually, they’re claiming to be a god in the bedroom.”

“In my day, people didn’t pretend lest a true god smite them,” he grumbled.

“Welcome to the modern age.”

I went to step past him, and he growled. “Where are you going?”

“To walk my dog.” A dog who’d not barked at him, as she normally did with strangers. On the contrary, Jinx acted like a little lady, standing by my side, looking aloof and adorable.

“I’m not done speaking with you.”

“Then make an appointment. I’m busy.”

“I’d hardly call walking a mongrel busy.”

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know Jinx is a pure-bred Pomeranian. Her parents were show dogs. She’s got an impeccable pedigree.”

His lip curled. “She’s barely snack sized.”

“Talk about eating my dog one more time and I won’t be responsible for what happens,” I snapped. I didn’t tolerate insults about me or my sweet dog.

“Exactly what do you think you can do? I’m a god.”

“Former god. Given you haven’t regained the power Ariadne stole from you, you’re barely a step above human.”

That brought a mighty glower to his handsome face. “You are trying my patience.”

“And you’re wasting my time,” was my sassy reply. I wiggled my fingers, meaning to teach him a lesson, but rather than giving him a super wedgie, I found my thong riding up my ass crack. Ouch.

My lips parted. “What just happened?”

He smirked. “Have you already forgotten whose blessing you carry?”

My lips pinched, mostly because I didn’t want to admit it had slipped my mind that, technically, my magic came from him. It could be confusing, seeing how my mother filched my and my sisters’ power from Ariadne, who, in turn, had stolen her magic from the monster god.

What I’d not known until now was my magic couldn’t be used against him. “Is this your way of saying you’re immune to me?”

“Is that a problem?” he asked in that deep voice of his.

I wanted to say yes, but in actuality, this was kind of interesting. A man I couldn’t punish or magic into obeying. But the fact he could fuck with my powers did leave me with an interesting question. “If I can’t use your own blessing against you, then does that mean Ariadne can’t either?” Ariadne being the twatwaffle I’d recently gone up against with my sisters. She’d escaped into some portal to another world rather than give back what she stole.

“Correct. So long as I’m stuck with this”—he pulled loose his tie and undid the top button of his shirt to show me a metal collar around his neck—“she has access to my powers, but can’t use my magic against me.”

The ugly thing gave me a chill. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be cut off from my source of power. To have someone siphon it from me, making me weak.

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about her anymore. She’s gone.”

“For now. She will return to finish what she began, unless we find her first.” His ominous prediction was a reminder that Ariadne planned to kill the monster god and permanently take his power.

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Don’t be so sure of that. We are bound, you and I.”

I laughed. “No, we’re not. And I can prove it.” With my chin lifted, I walked away, because if there was one thing self-important people hated, it was being ignored.

Chapter Two – Typhon

The disrespect boggled the mind. Here was a woman who’d been gifted part of his magic, who bore his mark—making her his to order around—and yet she ignored him. She sauntered off, her heart-shaped buttocks swinging, with that ridiculous poof ball she called a dog.

Walked away from a god.

He scowled before taking long strides to catch up. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the park. Jinx needs her walk, don’t you, baby?” She offered a sweet smile to the hairy rat on a leash.

“We were in the midst of a conversation.”

“Which I ended because it bored me. Now run along.”

She should count herself lucky he lacked his powers or, in that moment, he would have smote her. “We are not done. Far from it. You will assist me in dealing with Ariadne.”

“I already did. Ariadne is gone from this world. Yay. And you’re welcome.”

“She took my power with her,” he reminded her.

“Which I already said is a you problem,” she countered.

“She will return which is why it’s imperative we find and stop her.”

That made the witch pause, and she cast him a sidelong glance. “Will she come back? I mean, she fled because my sisters and I were about to whoop her ass.”

“Ariadne will want revenge.”

“Ooh, sounds exciting.”

He stared at her wondering about her sanity, liking her attitude while hating it at the same time.

She smiled. “What? I’m bored. Who knew fighting an evil twat would be so energizing? I kind of hope she comes back so I can really fuck her up.”

“You might have taken Ariadne off guard, but she won’t be so easy to defeat the next time,” he warned.

“Again, assuming she returns. Could be the place she fled to is nice.”

“Doubtful. The pleasant worlds would never allow someone like her to stay.”

“But you have no way of knowing for sure. Could be she’s stuck like you were.”

A reminder that he’d been imprisoned in a barren dimension, a victim of betrayal, until recently.

“I highly doubt she went somewhere she can’t escape.”

“Says the guy who was stuck for… how long?”

“Only because she cursed the only exit.” He felt a need to defend himself.

“Whatever. I don’t know why you’d assume she went somewhere shitty.”

“Because there are few dimensions closely aligned to ours that are easy to slip in out and out of.”

“How many is a few?” she asked.

“Maybe five or six. But most of them she’d have ignored. Like Tartarus—”

“The prison for gods,” she interrupted.

“Actually, it is the home of the titans, who happen to be the only ones who are any good at keeping gods incarcerated. I can’t see her going there. Nor would she have gone to Elfenland.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It used to be the home of the fae.”

“Why used to be?”

“The fae played with things best left alone, leading to their near extinction. The only ones that remain alive were those who fled.”

“Okay, so she didn’t go to Elfenland. You said there were a few. Surely not all of them are shit?”

“I doubt she went to Hades.”

“Wait, there’s an actual Hell?”

He snorted. “Yes, but it’s not a place where souls go when they die but rather a hot cesspool for demons.”

“Does this mean there’s a Heaven too?”

“Heaven is a place of endless skies and clouds, with the only solid place being the Garden of Eden, a dangerous locale where even the most beautiful flower is deadly. Not a place Ariadne would go, just like Nullarcana, a dimension that hates magic and hunts those who have it. They’re the ones who created this collar.” He tapped it.

“Doesn’t sound like she’d be staying in any of those places. But from the sounds of it, there are more.”

“There are two planes similar to Earth, but they are very proactive about preventing intruders, so she’d have avoided those.”

“Assuming she knew where she went.”

“Oh, she knew,” was his dark response. “She most likely planned her escape well in advance.”

“I wonder if she knows what world she dumped my mom in.”

“Most likely yes, since she can’t just open a portal to nowhere,” he remarked. He’d been there when Ariadne tried to thin those fighting against her by opening a doorway and shoving the triplets’ mother through.

“What are the chances she sent my mom somewhere nice?”

“Doubtful, but I wouldn’t worry about Apate,” he murmured. Apate, the triplets’ mother, being the goddess of deceit and powerful in her own right.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that your mother is very resourceful.”

“You speak as if you know her.”

“Before my incarceration, we were acquainted.”

Deino’s lip curled. “Oh gross, you slept together.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “No. We are friends, nothing more.”

“Seems like more than friends. After all, she had triplets for you and even had the balls to steal some of your magic from Ariadne to give to us.”

“This is more a case of like sticking together. We are both gods. Ariadne is not. She is a thief. A pretender. She can’t be allowed to succeed.”

“I hate to break it to you, but hasn’t she already? I mean you were imprisoned how long?”

His lips pressed flat. “I am aware of the shame. My weakness is no excuse.”

“How much of your power does Ariadne have?”

“A good portion of it. But not all. I still have dribbles. You and your sisters have some too.”

She eyed him before saying, “If we’re carrying your magic, why haven’t you taken it back to strengthen yourself?”

He put a hand to the collar at his throat. “So long as I wear this, Ariadne will just take anything you give me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want Frieda to try and remove it? Heck, I’ll give it a shot if you want.”

He gave a violent shake of his head. “No. Given Ariadne is no longer on this world, I don’t know what will happen. Could be it severs my power permanently, kills me, or the snap of it could cause an explosion.”

“Or is that what she wants you to think so you don’t try to remove it?” she countered.

“This parasite metal isn’t from this world. I don’t know how it will react and, as such, would prefer to not take a chance. I didn’t survive my incarceration to die from being rash.” He noticed during their conversation and stroll they’d reached a park. The dog didn’t seem impressed by the other canines or the grass.

“So you want to find Ariadne to sever the contact between you hopefully without rebound.”

He inclined his head. “When your sister released Bacchus from his collar, he didn’t seem to suffer ill effect, so I am hopeful.” Bacchus being Ariadne’s husband, a god who’d also had his power stolen.

“I still can’t believe he jumped into that portal after my mom.” Her nose wrinkled.

“They were lovers before he met Ariadne.”

“Frieda says you banged Ariadne too.” Deino glanced at him from under lashes.

He winced. “Not one of my finer moments. Blame a weakness of the flesh.”

“Fair enough. I get it.” She crouched to talk with her dog in the stupidest voice. “Okay, little sweet baby, you go do a tinkle, and if you do a number two, I’ve got a treat for you.”

“What are you doing?” he asked with a hint of incredulity.

“Cheering on my favorite girl so she’ll do her business outside instead of on my shag.” She continued singing in that strange, high-pitched voice.

“You let your dog rule you.” His mouth rounded. “A thing not even the size of your head.”

“Excuse me? My head is not that big.”

He glared at the dog. “You.” He pointed. “Defecate.”

The fluffy creature stared at him.

He stared back.

This was embarrassing. The god of monsters shouldn’t be losing a battle of wills with a dog.

“We are wasting time. We need to find Ariadne,” he growled.

“What’s with this ‘we’ shit?” she grumbled.

“You’re going to help.”

“Pretty sure I’m not.”

“Your mother owes me.”

“And? That’s her. Not me, or my sisters.”

“She had you for that express purpose.”

Her expression tightened, and a hard glint entered her gaze. “I am aware Mother didn’t have us out of some maternal instinct. I don’t need you shoving it in my face. And it also changes nothing. I don’t owe you shit.”

Frustration built inside him. There was a time when no one dared speak to him so disrespectfully. The witch saw him as weak. Less than a man. She wouldn’t help without the right motivation.

He couldn’t think of many things that would get her to change her mind. Threatening her sisters would be the quickest but could also backfire, as she was the type to plot vengeance. So what else might sway her?

“Help me and I will give you even more power.”

She eyed him. “I already have quite a bit.”

“But not enough to be immortal.”

He knew he’d surprised her by the slight stiffening of her body. She was careful not to show too much interest. “Immortality won’t help if I’m dead before I get it.”

“But if you succeed…” he teased.

“What are the odds of that?”

“I don’t know. However, the fact Ariadne fled rather than fought indicates she’s fearful we’ll manage to defeat her.”

“Or she’s gone somewhere she can shore up her defense and pick us off if we come for her.”

“The quest will be dangerous.” He wouldn’t lie about that.

“Not exactly a selling point.”

“If Ariadne returns before we find her, she will want vengeance on those who thwarted her,” he warned.

“Meaning me and my sisters.” She looked away before asking, “How are we supposed to handle her if you don’t know where she went?”

“There are ways of finding out.”

“Let’s say we do find her. She still has your magic, and while she might not be able to blast you to kingdom come, she won’t have a problem eradicating me.”

“If we can separate her from the armband that is linked to my collar—”

“Oh, just that?” she sarcastically retorted. “Easy peasy. Let me get right on that.”

“It won’t be simple, but your sister achieved it with ease for Bacchus.”

“Then why aren’t you asking her for help?”

“Alas, the journey we must embark upon is better suited for someone of your skills.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Who says I want to travel? Not to mention, you’re assuming I can replicate what Frieda did. Need I remind you that my sister acted in a moment of panic with no clue what she was doing?”

“A good thing you are the levelheaded sister who will practice ahead of time.”

She stared at him. “Practice how? You told me I couldn’t take off your collar.”

“There are other objects of magic you can attempt to drain.” The armband his collar controlled could only be removed by siphoning the magic holding it in place.

“You’ve got an answer for everything.”

“Of course, I do. I am a god after all.”

Her laughter rang out bright and cheerful and oddly pleasant despite the situation.

She shook her head. “You are something, Typhon. Let’s say I agree, how do I know you won’t go back on your word once you’re the monster god again? Who’s to stop you from killing me instead of paying up?”

At times he wished he had that kind of dishonor. “I can only give my word.”

“Trust isn’t something I give to just anyone.”

“Understandable, but I will mention, as someone who was betrayed, I would not ever do the same. If I want you dead, I will tell you so.”

“Gonna warn me before the smiting?”

His lips twitched. Surely, he wasn’t amused by this witch. “I always warn because the chase is part of the fun.”

Once more her laughter rang out. “Better be careful, or I might start liking you.”

“Does this mean you’ll help?”

Deino crouched to grab her dog and tuck it under her arm. “I’ll get back to you about it. I want to talk to Frieda about my future first.”

“She might not be able to see it if it requires you to travel to another dimension.”

“Perhaps not, but she can tell if I’ll come back.”

“When will you have an answer?” he asked as she once more dared to walk away.

She cast him a coy glance over her shoulder. “I’ll call you.”

Should he point out he didn’t have a phone? In his day, prayer was enough to get his attention. In his day, she would have never refused.

And even more disrespectfully, she made him wait.

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