by Chandra Ryan
“I think I could persuade them.” She smiled as she thought of the couple. It was still odd to think of the Oracle as the regent, but apparently it had been worked out in some renegotiations of a deal between her and Lord Quince after their daughter’s birth. Sara didn’t know what the original terms of the deal were, but whenever Lord Quince thought about it, the man was more terrified than any she’d ever met.
“Really?”
“They owe me.”
“And you were worried about making alliances. You’ve got this whole kingdom wrapped around your little finger.”
“Not bad for a servant,” she teased.
“Hmmm, I was once told I have a weakness for servant girls.”
“And do you?”
“Not anymore. Not since I had my heart stolen by a Lady Guard.”
“I’ve heard there’s only one of those.”
“You heard right.”
“Then you’d better work to stay on her good side,” she teased.
“Point taken. Truce?” he asked, his hand already under her tunic caressing her abdomen gently.
“Oh, I don’t want a truce, Right Hunter. I want complete surrender.”
About the Author
Being from a rather nomadic family, Chandra Ryan loves to travel and meet people. But she’s found that sometimes, like when you’re stuck in a Midwestern blizzard, you have to make do. Fortunately for her and her loving family, who don’t like seeing her suffer from cabin fever, she’s found creating new people and places equally as fascinating. Also, you’re a lot less likely to spill your hot chocolate that way.
You can e-mail Chandra at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/chandraryan.
Look for these titles by Chandra Ryan
Now Available:
Dragonborne
For her people, she’d sacrifice anything. For her, he’ll sacrifice everything.
Dragonborne
© 2010 Chandra Ryan
When the children of her village start dying of a mysterious plague, Sophie refuses to believe it’s the will of their deity. As the town cleric, she’s always followed the church’s strict rules, but enough is enough. She vows to do anything to find a cure—even if it means defying the church.
The giant black dragon she finds injured and poisoned near the abbey seems beyond her ability to heal. Until he suddenly shifts into a dangerously handsome man who, even in his weakened state, is a temptation beyond her ability to resist.
Reuel has never trusted humans, but this delicate young woman entrances him with more than her beauty. Her bravery, devotion and passion call to his wounded heart, and he’s moved to lend his magic to her cause. Magic that is not only powerful, it’s all too tempting to abuse—something his family has never let him forget.
Sophie is hopeful when Reuel solves the secret of the plague, until one healing uncovers a sickness that runs far deeper than the children’s vulnerable bodies. Now she is being persecuted, and to save her, Reuel may have to become the monster his family believes him to be…
Warning: Contains a stubbornly sexy cleric who’d rather have her hands tied to a headboard than exhibit any self-control, a shape-shifting dragon who’s too busy running from himself to see where he’s going, an epic dragon battle, and sex in the great outdoors.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Dragonborne:
Sophie snuggled into the soft leather under her head. The spicy-earthy scent of cloves enveloped her as firm fingers brushed over her cheek. It felt so good. She felt so good. Only her legs hurt. They felt tingly, like they’d fallen asleep, like she’d fallen asleep.
The hunter, the dragon, the chair—it all came back to her at once.
Bolting upright, her eyes locked with smoky black ones.
“I fell asleep.” Her voice had a dreamy thickness to it.
“I know.”
There was a feeling of expectancy pressing against her, demanding she do something. “I’m Sophie.”
“Reuel.” He looked down at the bandage then back up at her.
“I know you said you just needed sleep, but I was worried about infection.”
“It was kind of you to be concerned.”
She was transfixed by his gaze, by the hunger and need echoing in its dark depths. It would be so easy to lean forward, to close the gap between them, so easy to bring her mouth to his.
“I realized I hadn’t thanked you for saving me, not properly at least.” His voice was rough as he spoke, sending tiny warning bells off in her head. But she refused to hear them.
Unable to tear her gaze away from his, she nodded absently. “I’m a cleric. It’s my duty.” She wasn’t sure if she was telling him or reminding herself.
He smiled seductively as he leaned forward. “All the same, thank you.”
Her head was spinning from his nearness, making it difficult for her breath, difficult for her to find the right words. “You’re welcome.”
He cocked his head to one side as he studied her carefully. “Now you do look frightened, how very odd.”
“I’m not frightened.” She cursed the breathiness of her voice and her racing heart. It was so loud she was certain he could hear it.
His smile broadened for a moment and then disappeared altogether. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Strong arms pulled her onto his lap seconds before his mouth found hers. Feeling the passion and heat of the kiss, her body responded. Moaning softly, she thrust her hips towards his, bringing their bodies closer. It’d been three years since she’d shared her bed with another, an abstinence that was weighing heavily on her.
She felt his hands slide under her tunic, strong fingers exploring the contours of her back. His mouth opened and, without any thought to the consequences, she deepened the kiss. Her tongue meeting his, she felt a wave of heat sweep through her. Gone were any objections.
Her hands began exploring the smooth skin of his torso while her mouth left a trail of kisses from his neck down to his collar bone. Rocking her hips against his, she could feel his erection pressing against the leather of his breeches.
In her fog of desire, she heard her name called, but it took a second for her to realize it wasn’t the man under her calling it, but Naryn.
“Maker’s tears!” Sophie jumped off of Reuel’s lap and quickly straightened her tunic, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m so sorry.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Reuel or about the man she’d been promised to.
Her name rang out again, this time louder.
“Do you have to?” His eyes glowed with barely controlled hunger, but he didn’t make a move for her.
“If I don’t go to him, he’ll come to me.”
He looked towards the door and nodded. “But we aren’t finished here.”
Not knowing how to tell him that they were indeed finished, she turned and walked away.
“I’m here.” She stumbled through the door, making sure to shut it tightly behind her. The last thing she wanted was for her betrothed to know she had company. Running her fingers through her hair, she forced herself to look at Naryn. Today his pale skin looked pastier than usual and his hair was a tangled nest sitting upon his head. Staring at him, she couldn’t help but compare him to Reuel, a comparison she knew was unfair.
“Sophie, thank the Maker you’re all right.”
She hoped her face didn’t show any of her guilt. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because there was a dragon flying over earlier.”
Her heart froze as she heard the words. Could he possibly know the dragon was in the next room?
“A dragon?” Her voice squeaked slightly with the words.
“Yes. It should be dead by now, but if you go riding on the plains take caution.”
Realizing he knew nothing of her guest, she relaxed and fell into the expected conversation. “Dragons are so rare. How can you be sure?”
“Because I shot him down, vile creature.” His top lip curled in disgust, givi
ng him the look of a demented feline.
Sophie felt numb at the words. She couldn’t imagine killing any of the Maker’s creatures, let alone one as magnificent as a dragon. That he would only widened the chasm between them. “You shot down a dragon? Tried to kill him?” She felt compelled to repeat the words, as if that would somehow make them less true.
“I didn’t try, I succeeded. Unless he’s immune to bane’s breath.”
Recognizing the painfully poisonous plant, she gasped. “Bane’s breath isn’t church sanctioned.”
“And are you going to report me? It was a dragon, for Maker’s sake.” He turned away from her, his fists balled tightly at his sides, but then turned back. “Sometimes I don’t understand you. You treat a child with more reverence than the Maker’s will and a dragon with more concern than your own people.”
“I don’t know the Maker’s will, Naryn. None of us do. And a dragon is one of the Maker’s creations. Our oath doesn’t allow us to put one life above another.”
He clenched his fists as he stared at her. “I guess we have different interpretations of the oath.”
She was so tired of arguing with him. So tired of arguing with herself. “It appears we have different interpretations on many things these days.”
This time when he turned from her, he left; the door rung loudly as it slammed shut behind him.
Walking back into her living quarters, she wasn’t sure she was up to facing Reuel. She felt completely drained by the encounter and more than a little ashamed of her brazen behavior.
“Who was it?”
The question wasn’t accusatory, but she still felt defensive. Recognizing her reaction as one of frayed nerves, she took a deep breath as she sought out some sort of inner calm. “It was Naryn. He’s a healer.” She paused for a second debating how much to tell him. “And my betrothed.”
One of Reuel’s eyebrows arched inquisitively, but he remained silent.
“It’s an arranged agreement. My church marries into his church to ensure the next generation of clerics.” The words spilled out of her like water over a broken dam. “I know, that’s no excuse for my behavior. A promise is a promise, regardless of the circumstance.”
“I see.”
She examined him closely, but didn’t see any of the disgust or outrage she’d expected to find. Actually, she couldn’t identify any emotion at all. “I can only imagine what you must think of me…”
“I wasn’t proposing breaking your betrothal, Sophie.”
“Still, it doesn’t make me very faithful does it?”
He studied her for a moment. “Betrothed means the bond hasn’t been placed yet?”
“We haven’t been married, no.”
“Then no harm done.” He pulled her to him so she landed in his lap.
“I suspect it’s a difference in culture.” She was determined to resist his charms this time, but she could already feel desire heating her blood. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t Naryn melt her will with a single look as he could?
“I would stop if you asked it.” He kissed the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder.
His voice was hypnotic, his touch intoxicating. She wanted to tell him to stop, knew she should, but she couldn’t force her mouth to say the word. It felt so good, sitting there in his lap, him kissing her neck.
“Do you want me to stop?”
The warrior in her was ready for anything. But she never saw him coming…
Riever’s Heart
© 2011 Renee Wildes
Guardians of Light, Book 5
Verdeen is on the brink becoming an elite warrior ranger until the ultimate humiliation—no war mare chooses her for advanced training. King Loren’s consolation prize isn’t much better. Journey to the Isle of Ice as bodyguard to a human riever. Daq Aryk. Barbarian. Prince of thieves.
Aryk dreams the impossible: unite six fractious clans into a peaceful nation. Failure means they are all doomed to kill each other off—and the nightmares of his son’s death by sword will come true. The new elven ambassador rouses his ire, not because she’s female, but because she’s inexperienced. Her possibly needless death weighs on his already overburdened soul. Her beauty is a distraction he can’t afford.
In a fragrant, moonlit garden, Verdeen dares yield to an irresistible compulsion to kiss the mortal riever. The heat shakes her to the core, and frees a desire that should occur but once in her life. With a mate.
As their quest twists down ever more dangerous paths, though, their bond is the asset that could assure peace…or the liability that could send a dream down in flames.
Warning: This tale illustrates what happens when adventurous dreamer meets seen-it-all cynic. Contains hot, no-holds-barred sex, voyeurism, and some self-loving. Also betrayal and some graphic (but never gratuitous) battle violence.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Riever’s Heart:
Verdeen paced through the lush gardens, letting the honey scent of night-blooming moonflowers soothe her. Their waxy ivory petals glowed in the lights. Thank the Lady goddess everyone seemed to be inside. The splashing of the wishing fountain drew her, and she emerged into a small clearing lit by pink mage light. She wasn’t the first to venture there. She froze at the intimidating figure staring into the shadowy ripples of water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here—”
“Don’t go.” Aryk turned from the fountain and held out a sun-bronzed hand. “Stay.”
She eyed his hand, wary of his touch. “Daq Aryk, what are you doing out here?”
Was he following her?
“Just Aryk. I needed quiet.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I felt on display.”
She could relate to both parts of that statement, and unexpected sympathy welled for the stranger. As if of its own volition, her body moved closer to him. His eyes drew her gaze. Their intensity made her falter. “Why have you come here to Poshnari-Unai, my city?”
“To set my destiny in motion.” His lips quirked at her puzzlement. “Stovak nos briel.”
She cocked her head. “What does that mean?”
“‘Destiny awaits.’ Sounds grand and mysterious, hai?” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “’Tisn’t. I’ve a political problem back home. Cianan thought Loren could help.”
Humans believed in the Destiny Hand? “Well, he’s very good at solving most problems. Everyone’s but mine.”
“Your eyes are red. You’ve been crying. Why?” He frowned, but she read genuine concern in his eyes. “Today you triumphed over everyone. I’ve never seen anything like it. You were amazing.”
“Really?” She cursed the tremor in her voice, the eager need for approval only too obvious even to herself.
His smile softened the harsh planes of his face and deepened the crinkles around his eyes, making him seem younger and less imposing. “Hai. Really. I’ve seen many a warrior in my lifetime. Believe me when I say you’re truly gifted, kyra. Smart, strong and beautiful. Poetry in motion.”
Something melted within her at the compliment. There was that word again, kyra, his husky tone almost making it an endearment.
“The one thing I wanted most in this world slipped through my fingers this afternoon,” she confessed. “A chance to be selected as a ranger trainee, to further my studies. It didn’t happen.” A tear slid down her cheek. She froze as he reached out to brush it away.
“There are many paths to greatness,” he told her. “A warrior’s greatest strength is the scope of his vision. You showed vision and judgment today, but take care lest your focus cause you to miss your true path. A warrior must above all be adaptable to change. The one thing that never changes is the fact that everything changes.”
Aryk held out his hand again, palm up, and Verdeen found herself reaching to take it. Big mistake. His thick, scarred fingers slid over hers in a caress which made her tingle in places not even remotely attached to her hand. She entwined her fingers with his to still them and bit her lip at the zing of awareness as his thu
mb brushed across the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. “Cease,” she whispered.
“Cease what?” His voice dropped to a smooth, dark seduction of lethal proportions. “This?” His fingers teased hers with long, light strokes. “Or this?” He rubbed gentle circles over her pulse, which hammered at his touch.
She should pull away but didn’t move. Couldn’t move. “This isn’t proper.”
Some rebellious part of her didn’t care.
“Do you always do what’s proper, kyra?”
She had to know. “What’s kyra mean?”
“’Tis a term for a woman warrior.”
Verdeen nodded. “We also have such a term, ancient and seldom used. Vertenya. Few exist in our world to carry such a title.”
According to Cianan, there were now but two—Queen Dara and herself.
Aryk slid closer, the heat from his body curling around her. “I answered your question. Now you answer mine.”
What was his question? If only she’d focused on his words instead of on the rich smoky warmth of his voice. Like crème rija pudding with honeyed brandy. Sheer decadence to make her melt.
“Do you always do what’s proper?”
Female in the military? It didn’t get any less proper; just ask her absent parents. Acourse, holding hands with a royal guest in a moonlit garden wasn’t exactly proper, either. Yet here she stood with her hand in his, close enough for his subtle, musky scent to push the fragrance of the flowers from her awareness. All she could think of was how she wanted to move closer yet. Dazed, she shook her head.
Heat flared in his changeable eyes. “They said this is a wishing fountain. If you make a wish and toss in a pebble, your wish comes true.”
“’Tis true. A legend as old as this city itself. There are faeries with the power to grant it, if the wish is personal and comes from the heart.”
Aryk uncurled his free hand, revealed a stone. With a flick, he tossed it over her shoulder.
Verdeen heard the splash.