by Steve Vera
Drynn
By Steve Vera
Book one of Last of the Shardyn
Montana police chief Skip Walkins is hot on the trail of a murder suspect when he witnesses a drifter free the Lord of the Underworld. Seventeen years ago, five knights from Earth’s magical twin, Theia, entombed Asmodeous the Pale, Lord of the Drynn, in Skip’s town. Now that the dark god is free again, he’s anxious to get back home and finish the war he began…to enslave all life. It begins with killing the knights who trapped him.
Deprived of their magic, the knights fight back using whatever they can get their hands on, from samurai swords to assault rifles. Skip gets reluctantly drawn in to their struggle while Donovan Smith, the demigod murderer whom Skip was after in the first place, plots to find the Lord of the Underworld and butcher him on his own.
Together, these unlikely heroes might just save the world. If they don’t kill each other first.
91,000 words
Dear Reader,
This February, we decided that we would do something a little different for the month that usually celebrates Valentine’s Day. Not everything always needs to be hearts and roses—sometimes it can be swords, mayhem and spaceships as well—so we’re using this month to not only debut new science fiction and fantasy authors and series, but also to reintroduce some returning authors in these genres. And, of course, since we’re a publisher of variety, we have even more genres on offer this month.
Debut author Steve Vera brings us Drynn, book one in his Last of the Shardyn urban fantasy trilogy. The heroes of two worlds reluctantly join forces to fight the Lord of the Underworld. Joining Steve in the urban fantasy category is David Bridger, returning with his sequel to Quarter Square. Golden Triangle is the story of a golden man, werewolf bikers and two nemeses.
How Beauty Saved the Beast is the second book in Jax Garren’s continuing science fiction romance trilogy, and the sexual tension is ramping up! A burlesque dancer and a scarred soldier defend a colony of anarchists as friends and fellow agents, but when a new weapon threatens to rip them apart, sparks fly as the dancer must take the lead in a fight for the soldier’s life. Don’t miss the trilogy’s conclusion in May.
Returning authors Stacy Gail, Inez Kelley, Shona Husk and Christopher Beats all deliver their respective book twos this month, all in four different genres. Don’t miss paranormal romance Savage Angel, fantasy romance Time Dancer, Western fantasy romance Dark Secrets and steampunk mystery Vacant Graves.
Also in February, author Shawna Thomas launches her newest fantasy series with Journey of Awakening. Trained from birth for one purpose, Sara must reunite three ancient stones to restore balance to the land, but one of the stone keepers has other plans.
Longing for a heroine who’s not your typical heroine? Have an interest in a unique fairy tale retelling? Tia Nevitt delivers both in her latest Accidental Enchantments offering, The Magic Mirror and the Seventh Dwarf, a Snow White retelling where the seventh dwarf is a young woman who walks into adventure with a runaway princess, a prince cursed by a magic mirror, and a romance of her own.
Last, but definitely not least, are our February offerings for those of you who want to read outside of science fiction, fantasy and paranormal. Mystery author Monique Domovitch joins Carina Press with Getting Skinny, the first in her Chef Landry Mystery series. Charlie Cochrane delivers another heart-wrenching tale of love in male/male historical Promises Made Under Fire. And cool Southern belle Althea Grant’s subdued life as an art gallery owner burns out of control when a seductive bad-boy metal sculptor pushes her to explore her deepest, most thrilling desires in Platinum, Jeffe Kennedy’s newest BDSM erotic romance book.
We’re pleased to introduce debut author Darcy Daniel with her contemporary romance Playing the Part. Famous actress Anthea Cane meets her match when she encounters an enigmatic blind farmer…but has she also met the man of her dreams?
And despite my claim that not everything has to be hearts and roses, I’m still a die-hard romantic, so I hope all of you discover an amazing happily ever after this Valentine’s Day, whether between the pages of a Carina Press book or channel surfing on the couch next to you.
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
www.facebook.com/carinapress
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
The man was an outsider, a visitor, and he wasn’t welcome. It took only a moment for Emma to realize there was something unnatural about him, something different. The rush of cold air that scuttled in after him refused to surrender to the smoky warmth of her tavern, even after the stranger closed the door. Instead, it seemed to coalesce around him, as if feeding off his very presence.
“We’re closed,” Emma called from behind a worn but well-kept wooden bar. She glanced nervously at Rufus and his two burly brothers as they glared with unconcealed hostility at the stranger.
Massaging the two-day stubble sprouting from his face, Rufus muttered something to his brothers and they all snickered.
For a moment the stranger stood in the doorway and passed his gaze over the tavern, impervious to the hostile stares and low mutterings he received from the three. His long, sandy-blond hair hung limply to his shoulders, weighed down by melting snow. Crystals of ice not yet melted on his black overcoat reflected light cast by the fire burning in the center fireplace.
Emma couldn’t see his eyes. Despite the fact that it was ten o’clock at night and a snowstorm had begun outside, the stranger wore a pair of red sunglasses too dark for her to see through. His attention seemed fixed on the sixteen-point trophy buck adorning the wall above her fireplace, and for a moment Emma feared he might be some PETA wacko come to give her grief about
hunting animals.
“I said we’re closed,” she called out again, her voice loud and cold. She could hear Rufus cracking his knuckles.
The man in the doorway turned, as if noticing her for the first time. He entered, his movements as fluid as a haunting spirit.
Emma couldn’t remember ever meeting a man so good-looking. His features were smooth and finely chiseled, almost angelic in their beauty. Suddenly Emma felt old, plump and gray and every bit the thirty years she had on the kid.
He reached into his left pocket and laid two hundred-dollar bills on the bar. “For dinner and drinks,” he said in a soft, eerie rasp that sent the graying hairs on her arm vertical. There was something unfriendly, even sinister about him that his youth and perfect features couldn’t mask, and though Emma couldn’t actually see his eyes, she could feel them burning into her. Leaving her naked.
Possessing no desire to tangle stares, she looked down to his neck and found the edges of a pale, smooth scar smiling across his throat within the depths of his coat. There was only one sort of injury Emma could think of that would leave that kind of scar. Aware that she was staring, she looked back up into the lenses concealing his expression. She picked up the bills, folded them neatly and slid them into the apron strapped around her ample hips.
“It’ll take a couple minutes to warm up the grill.” Emma’s voice, strong and brisk just moments before, now wavered.
He nodded and then took a seat in the back corner by the window, gliding into it like a hawk’s shadow.
“What the hell?” Rufus demanded, thunking his near-empty mug on her oak-top table.
“You hush up, Rufus,” Emma snapped, relieved to hear the customary gruffness back in her voice. “You give me two hundred dollars for dinner and I’ll start up the grill for you too.”
Rufus growled out a curse and swallowed a mouthful of brew.
“Jessica, how about a hand, hey?” Emma waved the bar towel at the only other woman in the bar, a buxom bottle-blonde whose glazed-over expression bordered on awe.
Damn fool girl. Emma knotted the end of the towel and thwacked it against Jessica’s backside.
Jessica sprang back to life with a squeak.
“A hand, please?”
“Oh yeah, right,” Jessica mumbled, straightening while rubbing the back of her jeans. She refused to break eye contact with the young stranger until Emma hooked a finger into her belt loop and guided her, starry-eyed, back into the kitchen.
“Wow,” Jessica breathed in a ridiculous, dreamy sigh. “Christmas came early this year.” The seeds of a plan took root in her eyes.
“More like Halloween,” Emma said by way of response. “There’s something wrong with that kid.” Jessica didn’t seem to notice the slight trembling in Emma’s normally surgeon-steady hands.
“He does look rather naughty, doesn’t he?” Jessica asked with a grin and raised her eyebrows twice, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
“Listen to me,” Emma said, more serious than she felt she had a right to be. “You saw how Rufus was looking at him.”
“Mm-hmm, prolly jealous.”
“Exactly.” Emma paused, letting the word sink in. “I need you to keep him occupied.”
“The stranger? No problem,” Jessie said with a coy smile.
Emma was immune.
Jessica’s smile dissolved. “C’mon, Emma, he’s just being Rufus. He’s not gonna do anything. He hasn’t even been out for two months.” She puckered her lips and inspected the acrylic on her nails, an action Emma knew that meant the girl wasn’t listening to a word she said.
Emma slammed the sauté pan atop the flaming burner loud enough to break through that dismissal. “Do it anyway.”
Jessica’s eyebrows rose, dreamy fog vanquished.
“For me,” Emma added, softening her tone. Call it woman’s intuition, but an alarm was whistling like a teakettle in the back of her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the money.
Jessica rolled her eyes and steeled herself for her task. Emma knew the last thing the girl wanted to do was sit next to that fat, hairy slob of an ex-con, but…Emma signed her paycheck.
“Remind me again why I work here?” Jessica said, deflated.
“Because I’m the only boss who doesn’t howl that you’re ten minutes late. Every day.” Emma pointed to the door with her metal spatula.
Sighing like a grounded teenager, Jessica turned and pushed through the kitchen’s wide-swinging metal door. Her face popped into view through the glass panel and she tossed Emma a wink as she pranced toward the dining room.
I’m doing you a favor, hon. Something’s wrong with that kid. Emma barreled through the swinging door after her. She clicked on the big-screen television over the bar, preset to the Monday night game, and murmured a plea to the announcers to keep things calm.
Jessica plopped herself into the fourth seat at Rufus’s table and beamed a smile. “So whatcha guys gonna buy me?” she asked sweetly.
Rufus laughed. “What are you? Damage control?” His words were slurred and muddy, like a truck revving in the rain.
“You got it. As long as you pervs are staring at my tits, you won’t mess up Emma’s bar by doing something rambunctious.” She batted her eyelashes.
Emma hadn’t thought it was that funny but evidently Rufus did because he roared, his two brothers joining in.
“Don’t worry ’bout us, Jessie. So long as pretty boy over there minds his manners, we won’t have to kick anybody’s manicured ass. Ain’t that right, pretty boy?” Rufus yelled out of the side of his mouth.
The stranger seemed oblivious to the taunt. He sat unmoving, his gaze directed toward the large screen that flashed the destruction of the Dallas team.
Emma narrowed her eyes. “Remember our deal, Rufus.”
“What’d I do?” Rufus opened his hands in a gesture of harmlessness.
Emma barely withheld a snort. Rufus was about as innocent as a pyromaniac with a book of matches. “I don’t want any trouble tonight. From anyone.” Her tone was final. She took a deep breath before walking over to the table.
Unlike the stranger, Rufus was familiar territory; Emma knew she was the only person who could speak to him like that. It wasn’t that he respected her or feared her or even that he liked her. The simple fact was Rufus was banned from every other bar in town. His continued presence in her restaurant was strictly conditional on his behavior.
Now for the stranger. She walked over to his table, forcing herself to cap her kettle. He was just a kid who wanted to eat, nothing more. In and out, kid, and make it snappy.
“Look. Unless you wanna be here forever, I suggest you get the ribeye. I got ’em handy and they’re my specialty.” Emma watched his impassive, flawless face for a reaction to her words. Her tone had been sharp. Well, hell, it always was when she was dealing with Rufus; that was the only way that worked. Belatedly, she remembered this odd young man had forked over two hundred bucks for this meal. That alone was a free pass for at least a little professional pleasantness. For now. “So what do you say? It’ll come with garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed cippolini onions, grilled asparagus and a roasted shallot Zinfandel demi-glace,” Emma continued a bit more contritely. Rocky Mountain tavern the Rook might be, but Emma was a gourmet.
“That’ll be fine,” he answered in a raspy flatline.
The monotone recitation sent a chill up Emma’s spine, as if someone had just dunked her in the Flathead River flowing just outside the large windows that comprised the west wall of her bar.
“How do you want it?” She took advantag
e of the moment to give him a good once-over. His neat and well-kept hands were folded in front of him, his eyes inscrutable behind the opaque red lenses of his designer sunglasses. He’d taken off his overcoat and draped it across the chair next to him, where it steamed in the heat of the bar. Emma noticed a subtle, earthy smell emanating from him that she’d never scented before. It was slight, almost indiscernible, but Emma’s trained nose picked it out. Like ozone and herbs.
“I don’t care.”
Emma raised her brows and shrugged. Whatever. You’re getting medium rare. “Anything to drink?”
“A glass of red wine.”
Could you be any more vague, kid? She shook her head and dismissed herself to pour him a midlevel Napa Cabernet. I should card his ass, she thought but decided against it. He was too creepy to be underage.
The stranger did not acknowledge her as she set the glass in front of him. Why on Earth he’d chosen Rolling Creek, Montana, of all places to stop on a night like this was beyond her. Not that it mattered. His two hundred bucks had guaranteed she’d cook for him. She just hoped he didn’t pitch a tent and stay all night.
On her way to the kitchen, she caught Jessica’s eye and gave a jerk of her chin in Rufus’s direction. Jessica smiled with a nod and continued her conversation without missing a beat. Rufus’s gravelly voice droned on and on, a low rumble, like a landslide of sound.
Ten minutes, that was all she was asking for.