by Sandy James
The Volatile Amazon
By Sandy James
Book four of Alliance of the Amazons
Sarita Neeraj has never felt like a real Amazon. Compared to the obvious strengths of her sisters, her Water powers seem as small as her stature. She’s determined to prove herself—unfortunately, all that gets her is captured by an enemy.
Ian serves a twisted goddess, preferring this to an empty afterlife. He’s taken Sarita hostage to coax the other Amazons from their safe haven. But in his ancient Scottish castle, the passion and love Ian finds for Sarita resurrect his honor, until he chafes at the dark will of his mistress.
Sarita has finally found happiness—but before she can enjoy it, she’s “rescued” by her furious sisters. To save Ian from destruction at the hands of the Amazons, Sarita must risk wielding magick that could change her very nature. Only then can she prove the Water Amazon is the strongest of the four—and save them all from destruction.
Meet Earth, Fire and Air in The Reluctant Amazon, The Impetuous Amazon and The Brazen Amazon.
99,000 words
Dear Reader,
Usually I begin these letters with some chatty information, but I’m departing from my norm this time to give you the opportunity to talk to me. At Carina, we’re always discussing our books and making sure we’re meeting your needs—not just with story and content, but also in the way they’re put together. This month, I’d like to reach out to you and ask your opinion on how the Carina Press books utilize the front and back matter. Do you like having the dear reader letter in the front? Would you prefer if it were in the back? Is there something more—excerpts, book lists or other information—we could be providing after the books? We welcome your comments and hope you will reach out to us with your thoughts at [email protected].
In the meantime, it’s business as usual here at Carina Press headquarters, and that means a lineup of excellent books (no bias here!) for the month of September. We welcome author Jael Wye to Carina Press with her science-fiction fairy-tale retelling, Ice Red, in which the tale of Snow White plays out on the deadly and beautiful planet Mars 300 years in the future. Joining her in launching a new series is return author Nico Rosso, who grabbed my attention the first time he pitched this series to me as “demon rock stars.” Misty is thrown into rock star and immortal demon Trevor Sand’s supernatural world of music, monsters and passion in Heavy Metal Heart.
More unique voices this month include urban fantasy author R.L. Naquin’s newest Monster Haven novel, Fairies in My Fireplace, as well as Agamemnon Frost and the Hollow Ships, book two of Kim Knox’s male/male science-fiction trilogy.
Sandy James wraps up her Alliance of the Amazons series with The Volatile Amazon. The Water Amazon leads the Alliance as they face their archenemy in their last and greatest fight. Veronica Scott joins Sandy in the paranormal category with Egypt-set Warrior of the Nile.
We have multiple releases in the erotic romance genre this month, including Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed, in which the Love Letters ladies strip away everything but the hot truth, and four couples see each other in a tantalizingly revealing new light. Forbidden Obsessions by Jodie Griffin features Bondage & Breakfast owner Gabe McConnell, who finally gets his chance at love when he meets a novice submissive who touches a part of his dominant heart no one else ever has. In Lynda Aicher’s Bonds of Hope, former America’s sweetheart Quinn Andrews has an opportunity to revive her career by playing a sexual submissive in a highly anticipated new TV series. Quinn is ready to throw herself into the role, and sex club The Den is the ideal place for a crash course.
Also in the erotic romance genre, we’re pleased to welcome author Lise Horton to Carina Press with Words of Lust. A career spent teaching erotic literature does not prepare brainy Professor Serafina Luca for NYC construction foreman Nick Stellato, but his lessons in lust promise to fulfill her wickedest desires, and his promise of love, her wildest dreams.
For historical romance fans, Alyssa Everett offers up A Tryst with Trouble. The arrogant heir to a dukedom and a blunt-spoken spinster take an instant dislike to each other, but must join forces to solve a murder mystery in this clever regency romp.
Kaylea Cross returns with another edge-of-your-seat romantic suspense novel, Lethal Pursuit. An air force pararescue jumper and a female security forces officer are locked in an intense battle of wills, but when they’re captured by an enemy warlord, it takes everything they have to survive and fight their way back to friendly lines together. Check out the other books in this series, Deadly Descent and Tactical Strike.
We’re excited to present Corroded, the next book in Karina Cooper’s St. Croix Chronicles. Now fixated on revenge, bounty hunter Cherry St. Croix must bend all her intellect on catching a murderer—no matter whose help she must ask, and to whose demand she must submit.
Last, I’m thrilled to announce the release of three debut authors this month. Rebecca Crowley’s contemporary sports romance, The Striker’s Chance, gives us passion on and off the pitch when ambitious PR manager Holly Taylor has to revamp the playboy image of sexy, stubborn professional soccer player Kepler de Klerk. Michelle Witvliet breaks onto the romantic suspense scene with Breaking Protocol. She can’t let go of a tragic past; he faces an uncertain future; so they live in the moment and discover all they really need is each other. And in our new adult lineup, debut author Melissa Guinn offers a new adult romance novel about first love, second chances and learning to let go in Headfirst Falling.
I hope you enjoy this month’s releases as much as we have, and find them satisfying, remarkable and memorable!
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
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Dedication
Nan Reinhardt—this one’s for you. Thank you for being a great critique partner and a wonderful friend.
Acknowledgments
A HUGE thanks to my editor, Mallory Braus. You’ve been a dream to work with on this series, and I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me and my Amazons.
As always, I need to thank my critique partners—Leanna Kay, Cheryl Brooks, and Nan Reinhardt. I don’t know what I’d do without you ladies!
I have to give my appreciation to my husband Jeff for tolerating hour after hour of me ignoring him to write. Love you, sweetheart!
Special thanks to Deepika Garg for her insight into the Indian culture! Love you!
To the members of Indiana RWA, thanks for your continued support and encouragement.
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
&
nbsp; 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
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
This place wasn’t heaven, and it wasn’t hell.
In the beginning, he’d been grateful and more than a little relieved. He hadn’t lived the most noble of lives and had committed more sins than he cared to acknowledge. He’d died with a mortal sin staining his soul—the sin of wishing a man dead—but no fire licked at his skin. No brimstone sliced into the tender soles of his feet. Demons weren’t prodding him with sticks and pikes.
Of course, there were no angels singing eternal hymns of praise, either. There were no harps being plucked with a soothing melody. His weight wasn’t borne by a fluffy cloud. Yet he had been thankful to be in this place.
But only in the beginning.
Time stood still here. There was food, but only salted pork and rough potatoes. They didn’t taste bad, they simply didn’t taste at all. There was drink, but only warm water. There was rest, but only on the hard ground.
He didn’t have to labor.
That, in the beginning, had seemed a blessing, especially after the earthly struggle to keep his clan fed. Yet the boredom stretched from day to day to day. While there was no labor, there, too, was no amusement. He passed time aimlessly walking in a dusty field with no heather or clover to brighten the path.
He wasn’t alone. There were others in the field, in this place with no time. They neither spoke to him, nor he to them. He had no will to give voice to his mind. His thoughts remained his own, but they gave him no solace. Memories were torments, reminding him of his life—one lost in an act of betrayal and ending in agonizing pain.
Marking time was done in movements across the barren field. Left to right. Right to left. Too many times to count, yet he couldn’t stop to do anything except eat, drink or sleep. Even if he found the will to stop walking, it wasn’t long before he started again. He had no drive of his own.
Maybe this was hell after all.
“I can take you from here,” a woman’s melodious voice called from a great distance. “I can free you. You are what I seek—someone who was also betrayed, who thirsts for revenge. Let me help you.”
Now, I’m in hell.
Now, he’d have to endure the torture of promises that could never be fulfilled. Now, he would hear a beautiful, lying voice telling him this torture might one day end.
“Pledge yourself to me,” she said. “I can give you the vengeance you seek.”
He kept walking, staring at his bare feet as they plodded on the dirt and wishing the taunting voice would return from whence it came.
“Serve me,” she purred, “and I will bring you back to the world to complete your goal. I know what lies in your heart. The man who destroyed you will die at your hand, just as the women who destroyed my plans will die. Be my weapon! Be my right hand!”
His steps slowed as a spark flared in his heart, reminding him of the hatred and the wish for another’s demise that had followed him in death.
“Promise yourself to me, and I will make you whole again. I will give you all your heart desires.”
He stopped walking and clenched his fists at his side.
“Worship me,” she sang, “and I will give you what you never found in life. You will have your revenge. I swear it.”
With a shuddering sigh, he turned away from the voice and shook his head.
A bolt of lightning sliced the air a stone’s throw from him, striking another walker. The man screamed as his body was engulfed in flames before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke.
“I can do all I say—and more. Come to me.”
Hatred burned inside him, consuming what remained of his soul. His revenge might finally be within his grasp, yet he hesitated.
“Promise yourself to me!” Her voice was thunder, making the earth tremble beneath his feet.
An agonized cry spilled from his lips as he fell to his knees and placed his fist over his heart.
If he did this, he was forever damned.
Yet he had no will to stop himself.
He bowed his head then spoke for the first time since he’d been sent to this place. “I am yours.”
With her laughter floating around him like a whirlwind, he watched limbo fade to what it had truly been.
Nothing.
In the bayous of Louisiana...
The goddess Ganga frowned at the oracle. While Freya praised her prophecies and insisted there was need of her, Ganga had little inclination to listen to the ranting of a crazy old woman who called the swamp home. “Are you sure?”
“I am quite sure.” The oracle ran her wrinkled hand over the small, oddly-shaped crystal, the prophetic stone that hummed loud and long.
The woman’s cabin was dank, dark and covered with moss that seemed to drip from every surface. Decorated with the bones and skins of swamp animals, the walls had gaps between the boards that probably accounted for the chilliness pervading the air.
Although Ganga normally loved water and the creatures that called it home, swamps were an exception—probably because they were favored by people who seemed to do more evil in the world than good.
The light inside the crystal pulsated, changing from the blue of the ocean to the black of the night sky before it shifted to white and fell silent.
“The sign is often difficult to read,” the old woman insisted. “But in this case, the message is clear. You must send the Water Amazon. You must. It is the only way to save them all, the only way to heal the hurt that fuels this threat.”
Ganga frowned and smoothed her hands over her ruby-red silk sari. Her role in this prophecy was clear. So what made her hesitate?
Why did a nagging guilt fill her at the thought of sending her Amazon after an insignificant demon?
Because the Fates held more in store for Sarita Neeraj than a mere fight with a lowly demon. What she ultimately faced could easily be the end of her—of all the Amazons.
Of the world.
Ganga hated death. She’d granted the power of healing to her sacred Ganges River to halt the loss of so many people. She’d endowed her Water Amazon with the ability to heal her injured sisters. Now, that Amazon faced a future shrouded in loss of life. Including, perhaps, her own.
Sarita’s death would cut like a knife. There would be another to step forward, another Amazon to replace one who fell. Ganga sighed, realizing it wasn’t that simple this time. She’d developed too strong an attachment to Sarita Neeraj.
She’d seen the other patron goddesses make the same mistake, yet she’d thought herself immune. Perhaps it was Sarita’s hidden strength or her boundless love for her sisters—although other Water Amazons had displayed the same honorable traits.
No, Ganga was drawn to Sarita’s heart—one that was pure in every way.
The Amazons had been created by four strong goddesses who wanted to help humans despite the insistence of the other Ancients that none should interfere with what the Fates had in store for mankind. Amazons were like shooting stars. Few mourned their loss. Not the four goddesses. Ancients didn’t grieve over something as mundane as human death. No, only the sister Amazons and the Sentinels who trained the Amazons felt the loss when the warriors perished.
In her pact with the other goddesses, Ganga became the patron goddess of the Water Amazon, just as Rhiannon championed Earth, Freya empowered Fire and Ix Chel supported Ai
r. As if thinking about the other three deities was enough to bring them to her side, they emerged from the ethereal mists surrounding the old woman’s Bayou cabin.
Rhiannon led them with her typical arrogance. Dressed in a sky blue velvet dress, she smoothed her long, blond hair over her shoulder. “Have you heard the old woman’s words?”
“I have.”
“Heard but not heeded,” Freya said, crossing her arms over her breasts. Her typical smile had disappeared, and her blue eyes narrowed. “I told you, Rhiannon. She feels too much for her tiny Amazon.”
“Tiny, yes, but Amazon nonetheless,” Ganga replied. “I tire of you constantly preaching that my Amazon is the weakest of the four.”
Ix Chel scoffed, such an ugly sound in contrast to the goddess’s exotic good looks. Long, straight black hair. High cheekbones. Skin the color of caramel. She’d long been Ganga’s ally as they faced Rhiannon and Freya in disagreements. “Ah, but she is, is she not? Timid creature. I see little promise in her.”
“An Amazon’s traits reflect those of her goddess,” Freya commented.
The implication hung in the air, making Ganga fight the urge to slap both of her compatriots. Not that one Ancient could hurt another without ramifications to the grand scheme of the fickle Fates. Ix Chel had never before spoken to her in such a condescending tone. While she ached to ask what had soured their alliance, she didn’t wish to let Rhiannon and Freya know how close they’d become since this generation of Amazons had been called. “You are too harsh to Sarita.”
“Am I?” Ix Chel arched a dark eyebrow. “Does she have the powers of my Air? Can she leap to great heights like Gina? Can she command the clouds in the sky to make lightning to smite her enemies?”
“No, but—”
“Has she been the savior of the world like my Fire Amazon, like my daughter Megan?” Freya asked, smirking.
As though Freya would ever admit that her daughter was less than perfect. Megan should have been a demigod, but Freya had channeled her power into becoming the Fire Amazon because of some old prophecy by this very same oracle. Even then, Megan had her mother’s temper, often losing control and blasting fire from her palms when someone angered her. Freya would never admit that, either.