Eye of the Storm, book 5 in the Guardians of the Pattern series, is in the hands of my trusty beta team. This one will be out later this year, maybe around the end of the summer, and is about the adventures of Vaya Rhivana and Nick Romani. Here's a taste to keep you going until then...
Nick woke with a clear head and no fever. The first thing he was aware of was that he was no longer bound. The native man must have decided he wasn’t much of a threat, and as he stretched and tried to roll over, Nick decided that was probably a fair assessment. He felt weak and shaky, and wasn’t sure his legs would hold him.
He had dim memories of alternately burning and freezing, a horrible, pounding headache, and odd fever dreams. More clearly, he remembered the native man holding him down and forcing him to swallow vile-tasting potions.
Nick glanced about the cave. His bladder was urging him to get up, but he wasn’t certain he could manage by himself. He caught sight of the native man tending the fire. Beyond him, light filled the cavern entrance, though Nick couldn’t tell if it was morning or afternoon light.
“Can you help me?” he called across the cave. He thought he remembered the man speaking to him in Federation Standard, though that seemed unlikely. Perhaps it had just been a fever dream. “I need to get outside.”
The man got to his feet and moved to Nick’s side. He helped him stand, then slung one of Nick’s arms over his shoulders and waited patiently while Nick found his feet.
When they started moving slowly toward the mouth of the cave, Nick was surprised at how heavily he had to lean on his companion. By the time they made it outside, he was panting and sweating.
“Can we stop? Just for a second?”
The man stopped, and Nick let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t hallucinated it—the man did understand him.
“You can talk to me, you know,” Nick said as he leaned against the rock wall outside the cave. “I understood you just fine before.”
Jet black eyes flicked over him and then darted away. “There is nothing to talk about,” the man muttered.
“You might not have anything to talk about, but I have some questions. Like what’s your name? I told you mine… at least I think I did. I’m Nick, in case I didn’t. But I don’t know what to call you. Unless you’re partial to hey, you?”
“I don’t share my name with my enemies.”
“I’m not your enemy,” Nick said softly.
The feral, angry look in the eyes that reluctantly met his said otherwise.
“You shared a bed with me,” Nick pointed out. “Every time I woke up, you were right there next to me. Would an enemy do that?”
“He might if he had reason to keep you alive,” was the flat reply.
Nick frowned, not sure what to say to that, so he settled for, “Thank you. For saving me.”
The man’s eyes met his again—still wary, still hostile—and then he gave Nick a brief nod. “You may call me Vaya.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Nick gave him a grin, turning on the Romani charm full blast. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vaya.”
Vaya pulled Nick’s arm across his shoulders again. “Enough talk. Enough rest, too.” He led Nick to the tree, and to his embarrassment, Nick needed his support just to stand there relieving himself.
When he’d finished, he rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face. He felt sweaty and dirty, and he desperately needed a shave. “I suppose a bath is out of the question,” he said as Vaya helped him back to the cave.
“Bath? As in wallow in a tub of hot water? A waste of time and wood to heat so much water. You can wash in the river when you feel stronger.”
Nick shuddered. “The river is cold.”
Vaya rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Nick figured he’d just scored negative points in whatever man-contest was going on here.
Inside, Vaya tucked Nick back up in the furs and said grudgingly, “I can heat some water for you. Not a big tub full, but enough for you to wash.”
Nick gave him a grateful smile. A wash down would have to do, though he’d have killed to be back in his own suite at Winford, sinking up to his neck in hot water and scrubbing away all traces of the sickness that clung to his body.
Vaya was as good as his word. He heated some water in a cooking pot, and when it was ready, helped Nick to the fire and steadied him while he washed himself.
When Nick got to his back, he was too stiff to reach behind him, so Vaya took the scrap of cloth and did it for him with surprisingly gentle hands. He helped Nick dry off as well, and then helped him back to the furs. After the trip outside and the wash, Nick was exhausted, but before he drifted off to sleep again, Vaya brought him a cup of water and helped him sit to drink it.
“When you wake, I’ll have some food ready,” he said as Nick lay back in the soft bedding.
“Thank you,” Nick murmured.
“Do not thank me,” Vaya said in a hard voice. “I am not doing this for you.”
Monday, March 28, 2016
Friday, February 26, 2016
Blackfrost: WIP Excerpt
My next release, scheduled for this spring (probably very early May) is Blackfrost, the sequel to Burn the Sky. This story begins in the spring, less than a year after the events of Burn the Sky. When the story opens, Kian is nearing the completion of his training as a healer, and is about to be sent off to Blackfrost, an isolated estate in the kingdom of Miraen. There, he finds Prince Ambris and a bit of a mystery...
Prince Ambris of Miraen stared out at the dark tangle of the Blackwood. Over the years, the forest had encroached ever closer to the ruins of the estate, until now it threatened to overtake the charred remains of the north wing. The piles of burnt timbers were still covered with snow, but soon, tiny green tendrils of vine would be sprouting, and by midsummer, a mist of green would cover the fallen-in roof.
In a few more years, it would all merge back into the forest, leaving nothing to mark the place where Ambris’s life had taken such a dramatic turn for the worse.
Movement in the snow-covered courtyard below the window of his attic bedroom caught his eye, and he watched as the guard patrolling the courtyard and the ruins of the north wing was relieved by his night-time counterpart.
There was always a guard in sight of his bedroom window. Overkill, as far as Ambris was concerned, considering that the window was barred and could only be opened a crack.
Ambris let the heavy curtain fall and turned away from the gathering twilight. He had, perhaps, half an hour before old Cyrith brought his dinner and his sleeping draught. It was enough time. He would make it enough time.
He crept to the door and opened it a crack to listen. He heard no one moving about; the off-duty guardsmen would all be at supper, and Patra would have her hands full getting them fed. Ambris eased the door shut and moved to the center of his room.
Tonight.
He rubbed his pale, slender hands together. Tonight he would face the fire. Tonight, he would master his fear and take back both his freedom and his life.
Face the fire.
He mustn’t dither this time, and he mustn’t allow himself to dwell on his previous failures. If he thought about it too much, he’d lose his nerve, and who knew how long it would take him to get hold of it again?
Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and sought the writhing core of flame at his center.
It sounded like such a simple thing whenever Wytch Master Taretha explained it. Build the pattern in his mind, then push it into place around the surging core of chaos at his center.
He hadn’t counted on it being fire.
Hadn’t counted on the dark, flame-filled memories sweeping him away every time he tried to focus on the core of his power. The moment he drew near enough to begin weaving the pattern, he’d hear his mother’s screams, see her fleeing, her eyes wide with horror, her hair on fire.
Ambris shuddered as his flesh began to twist and writhe, and his bones began to lengthen and change, piercing his skin. Blood… pain… and the sense of striving for something that was just out of reach, something he couldn’t quite grasp…
White hot agony rippled through him in waves, becoming more intense with every passing moment. There was no way back, though. Once the shift had begun, he could only grit his teeth and endure. It tore him apart from the inside out, and all Ambris could do was scream.
When he came to, the room was fully dark, and he hurt all over. The floor under him was cold, and his clothing was wet and sticky. Every muscle in his body was torn and throbbing, having been stretched beyond its limit. His skin had split in too many places, congealing blood oozing from every wound…
He groaned through a throat that was raw from screaming, and wished for the oblivion of unconsciousness. Where was Cyrith? The healer should have been here by now, should have eased his pain and healed his ruined flesh.
Steps sounded on the stairs. Not the hesitant shuffle-tap-shuffle of the gentle, blind healer, but the light, quick tread that always struck a chord of fear in his heart. Malik, captain of the guard, was approaching.
The footsteps stopped and the door squeaked open on hinges in need of oiling. Golden lamplight shone in from the hallway beyond the partially open door. A sharp intake of breath was held for a moment and then released on a barely audible chuckle.
“Had another accident, did we, Highness?” Malik’s voice was a mocking growl that Ambris wouldn’t have dared respond to even if he weren’t in too much pain to speak. “Or were we thinking about escape again?”
When Ambris didn’t answer, Malik continued, “Accident or not, it’s bad timing on your part. Cyrith’s dead, you know. Patra went to fetch him for dinner and found him all stiff and cold in his cot. Dead since this morning, she thinks.”
Cyrith dead?
Despair washed over him, magnifying his pain a thousandfold. He whimpered, but dared not try to speak. Whatever he said would be wrong, would stir Malik’s temper to violence. As it was, Malik had no way of knowing or proving that he’d deliberately chosen to do this to himself, and Ambris intended to keep it that way.
He squeezed his eyes shut as Malik’s steps came closer. Rough hands took hold of his torn, broken body and lifted it none too gently. Bone scraped on bone and pain flared through him.
The last thing Ambris heard before losing consciousness once more was Malik’s soft laughter.
When he came back to awareness, Malik was gone, and steady, competent hands gently dampened long strands of blood-encrusted hair with a wet cloth and smoothed them away from his ruined face.
“Ah, pet, I’m so sorry.” It was Patra, the housekeeper, sounding genuinely distressed. “Poor old Cyrith never woke up this morning, I’m afraid. Malik’s sent for the Wytch Master, but I’ve no idea how long she’ll be. I’ve brought you some blackseed, for the pain. Do you think you can drink it?”
He tried to speak, but the pain was too great, so he opened his mouth just a crack, hoping that Patra would understand. Her hand slipped beneath his head to lift it, and she held a small vial to his lips.
When he’d swallowed it all, Patra set his head back down carefully. The blackseed seemed to take forever to do its job, but eventually, a warm glow worked its way through him, starting at his shoulders and slowly spreading until it encompassed his whole body. The pain ebbed away, and Ambris finally drifted off to sleep.
Prince Ambris of Miraen stared out at the dark tangle of the Blackwood. Over the years, the forest had encroached ever closer to the ruins of the estate, until now it threatened to overtake the charred remains of the north wing. The piles of burnt timbers were still covered with snow, but soon, tiny green tendrils of vine would be sprouting, and by midsummer, a mist of green would cover the fallen-in roof.
In a few more years, it would all merge back into the forest, leaving nothing to mark the place where Ambris’s life had taken such a dramatic turn for the worse.
Movement in the snow-covered courtyard below the window of his attic bedroom caught his eye, and he watched as the guard patrolling the courtyard and the ruins of the north wing was relieved by his night-time counterpart.
There was always a guard in sight of his bedroom window. Overkill, as far as Ambris was concerned, considering that the window was barred and could only be opened a crack.
Ambris let the heavy curtain fall and turned away from the gathering twilight. He had, perhaps, half an hour before old Cyrith brought his dinner and his sleeping draught. It was enough time. He would make it enough time.
He crept to the door and opened it a crack to listen. He heard no one moving about; the off-duty guardsmen would all be at supper, and Patra would have her hands full getting them fed. Ambris eased the door shut and moved to the center of his room.
Tonight.
He rubbed his pale, slender hands together. Tonight he would face the fire. Tonight, he would master his fear and take back both his freedom and his life.
Face the fire.
He mustn’t dither this time, and he mustn’t allow himself to dwell on his previous failures. If he thought about it too much, he’d lose his nerve, and who knew how long it would take him to get hold of it again?
Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and sought the writhing core of flame at his center.
It sounded like such a simple thing whenever Wytch Master Taretha explained it. Build the pattern in his mind, then push it into place around the surging core of chaos at his center.
He hadn’t counted on it being fire.
Hadn’t counted on the dark, flame-filled memories sweeping him away every time he tried to focus on the core of his power. The moment he drew near enough to begin weaving the pattern, he’d hear his mother’s screams, see her fleeing, her eyes wide with horror, her hair on fire.
Ambris shuddered as his flesh began to twist and writhe, and his bones began to lengthen and change, piercing his skin. Blood… pain… and the sense of striving for something that was just out of reach, something he couldn’t quite grasp…
White hot agony rippled through him in waves, becoming more intense with every passing moment. There was no way back, though. Once the shift had begun, he could only grit his teeth and endure. It tore him apart from the inside out, and all Ambris could do was scream.
When he came to, the room was fully dark, and he hurt all over. The floor under him was cold, and his clothing was wet and sticky. Every muscle in his body was torn and throbbing, having been stretched beyond its limit. His skin had split in too many places, congealing blood oozing from every wound…
He groaned through a throat that was raw from screaming, and wished for the oblivion of unconsciousness. Where was Cyrith? The healer should have been here by now, should have eased his pain and healed his ruined flesh.
Steps sounded on the stairs. Not the hesitant shuffle-tap-shuffle of the gentle, blind healer, but the light, quick tread that always struck a chord of fear in his heart. Malik, captain of the guard, was approaching.
The footsteps stopped and the door squeaked open on hinges in need of oiling. Golden lamplight shone in from the hallway beyond the partially open door. A sharp intake of breath was held for a moment and then released on a barely audible chuckle.
“Had another accident, did we, Highness?” Malik’s voice was a mocking growl that Ambris wouldn’t have dared respond to even if he weren’t in too much pain to speak. “Or were we thinking about escape again?”
When Ambris didn’t answer, Malik continued, “Accident or not, it’s bad timing on your part. Cyrith’s dead, you know. Patra went to fetch him for dinner and found him all stiff and cold in his cot. Dead since this morning, she thinks.”
Cyrith dead?
Despair washed over him, magnifying his pain a thousandfold. He whimpered, but dared not try to speak. Whatever he said would be wrong, would stir Malik’s temper to violence. As it was, Malik had no way of knowing or proving that he’d deliberately chosen to do this to himself, and Ambris intended to keep it that way.
He squeezed his eyes shut as Malik’s steps came closer. Rough hands took hold of his torn, broken body and lifted it none too gently. Bone scraped on bone and pain flared through him.
The last thing Ambris heard before losing consciousness once more was Malik’s soft laughter.
When he came back to awareness, Malik was gone, and steady, competent hands gently dampened long strands of blood-encrusted hair with a wet cloth and smoothed them away from his ruined face.
“Ah, pet, I’m so sorry.” It was Patra, the housekeeper, sounding genuinely distressed. “Poor old Cyrith never woke up this morning, I’m afraid. Malik’s sent for the Wytch Master, but I’ve no idea how long she’ll be. I’ve brought you some blackseed, for the pain. Do you think you can drink it?”
He tried to speak, but the pain was too great, so he opened his mouth just a crack, hoping that Patra would understand. Her hand slipped beneath his head to lift it, and she held a small vial to his lips.
When he’d swallowed it all, Patra set his head back down carefully. The blackseed seemed to take forever to do its job, but eventually, a warm glow worked its way through him, starting at his shoulders and slowly spreading until it encompassed his whole body. The pain ebbed away, and Ambris finally drifted off to sleep.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Wildfire Psi is Live!
Today I'm over at Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words for the release of Book 4 in my M/M Sci-Fi series, Guardians of the Pattern. There's an excerpt and a giveaway. This is Luka's story, and it's a slightly different take on one of my favorite setups: enemies-to-lovers.
Things are finally going well for Luka Valdari. He’s found a home and family at the Institute for Psionic Research, and he has a job he loves. When a training mission takes him back to the streets of downside Riga, he’s got plenty of reason to be uneasy, and when a psionic cry for help leads him to a nightmare from his past, Luka’s ready to bolt.
Things are not going so well for Damon Korsov. He’s got voices in his head, a hole in his memory, and strange dreams that may or may not be glimpses of his past. The one man who might hold the key to Damon’s past is the one man he can never ask. Because somehow, Luka knows Damon, and it’s clear to Damon that Luka hates him.
Unwilling to expose anyone else to the danger Damon represents, Luka volunteers to train him. He wants to hate Damon, but instead finds himself fascinated. Before they get a chance to sort things out between them, the two men are thrown into the middle of a terrifying plot that puts every human life in the galaxy at risk. Can Luka and Damon confront both of their pasts and work together to prevent disaster? Or will all the human worlds burn in the flames of wildfire psi?
Wildfire Psi is now available at Amazon, All Romance, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.
Things are finally going well for Luka Valdari. He’s found a home and family at the Institute for Psionic Research, and he has a job he loves. When a training mission takes him back to the streets of downside Riga, he’s got plenty of reason to be uneasy, and when a psionic cry for help leads him to a nightmare from his past, Luka’s ready to bolt.
Things are not going so well for Damon Korsov. He’s got voices in his head, a hole in his memory, and strange dreams that may or may not be glimpses of his past. The one man who might hold the key to Damon’s past is the one man he can never ask. Because somehow, Luka knows Damon, and it’s clear to Damon that Luka hates him.
Unwilling to expose anyone else to the danger Damon represents, Luka volunteers to train him. He wants to hate Damon, but instead finds himself fascinated. Before they get a chance to sort things out between them, the two men are thrown into the middle of a terrifying plot that puts every human life in the galaxy at risk. Can Luka and Damon confront both of their pasts and work together to prevent disaster? Or will all the human worlds burn in the flames of wildfire psi?
Wildfire Psi is now available at Amazon, All Romance, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Guardians of the Pattern: Release Day for Bundle and Cover Reveal for Book 4: Wildfire Psi
Today I'm over at Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words with some shiny new stuff to show you.
It's release day for the Guardians of the Pattern Bundle, Vol. 1, which includes the short prequel story Facing the Mirror and the first three novels of the Guardians of the Pattern series, Psi Hunter (Book 1), Gremlin's Last Run (Book 2), and Ghost in the Mythe (Book 3) is now available at Amazon, All Romance, and Smashwords.
To celebrate, I'm giving away a copy of Psi Hunter, the first book in the series, so head on over to Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words to enter.
Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is also graciously hosting the cover reveal for Wildfire Psi, Book 4 in the Guardians of the Pattern series, and there's an exclusive excerpt to keep you going until it's released on January 29th.
It's release day for the Guardians of the Pattern Bundle, Vol. 1, which includes the short prequel story Facing the Mirror and the first three novels of the Guardians of the Pattern series, Psi Hunter (Book 1), Gremlin's Last Run (Book 2), and Ghost in the Mythe (Book 3) is now available at Amazon, All Romance, and Smashwords.
To celebrate, I'm giving away a copy of Psi Hunter, the first book in the series, so head on over to Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words to enter.
Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is also graciously hosting the cover reveal for Wildfire Psi, Book 4 in the Guardians of the Pattern series, and there's an exclusive excerpt to keep you going until it's released on January 29th.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
Coming Soon: Guardians of the Pattern Bundle
Coming on December 14 is Guardians of the Pattern, Volume 1, a digital bundle that includes the prequel story, Facing the Mirror, plus the first three novels of the Guardians of the Pattern series: Psi Hunter, Gremlin's Last Run, and Ghost in the Mythe. That's over 320,000 words of sci fi goodness to kick back with over the holidays.
Facing the Mirror (Prequel): When undercover agent Cameron Asada meets Miko, a psychic slave kept by the drug lord Cameron is investigating, he starts to question his mission priorities. The choice is clear: complete the mission or help Miko. Neither option is easy, but only one will allow Cameron to face himself in the mirror.
Psi Hunter (Book 1): Sparks fly when ex-lovers Kyn Valdari and Pat Cottrell are ordered to team up on a murder investigation. When they discover an abused, traumatized young psion powerful enough to kill with a thought, they must work together to protect him from being enslaved by the very organization that is supposed to save him.
Gremlin’s Last Run (Book 2): When independent freighter captain Rhys Tyler finds Alek McKinnon hiding in his cargo hold, he has a choice to make: help a wounded Federation agent escape from his captors, or shove him out the air lock. One look at Alek’s pretty brown eyes is all it takes to convince Rhys to take a chance on the man. Now they’re both on the run from a shady organization that wants Alek back at any cost.
Ghost in the Mythe (Book 3): Exiled from his home world, Tarrin Rhivana stows away on a Federation ship, and finds himself lost in the terrifying place-between-worlds where jump ships navigate. There he meets a beautiful ghost who might be the only one who can help Tarrin save his world from outside forces that would strip it bare.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Leythe Blade Road Trip
Today I'm over at Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words for an interview. Come join us. I'll be talking about the world that Leythe Blade fits into and how it meshes with the other stories I've written, and there's a giveaway, too.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Leythe Blade is Live!
Sole survivor of a brutal massacre, Sasha struggles to come to terms with his need to avenge his clan and with a magical sword that has bonded to him for life. When Jace, a mercenary soldier, helps save Sasha from certain death, he finds himself drawn to Sasha. Can Jace walk the fine line between duty and desire? Or will Sasha’s plans for vengeance lead him to his death?
Leythe Blade is a stand-alone M/M fantasy/romance novel that runs about 77,000 words (~238 pages). It's available now at Amazon, Apple, All Romance, and Smashwords. I'll post more buy-links on the book page as they become available.
Leythe Blade is a stand-alone M/M fantasy/romance novel that runs about 77,000 words (~238 pages). It's available now at Amazon, Apple, All Romance, and Smashwords. I'll post more buy-links on the book page as they become available.
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