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First of Spring:
Forged from a childhood filled with bloodshed and death, Trent had been raised with a blade in
his hands. He lives the life of a warrior and carves through his enemies as if seeking redemption
for his mother’s ultimate sacrifice. As the acting Mikko of the Order of Rockys, Trent leads the
most dominant Lycans in the world. For that reason alone, he has no use or understanding for
those who wallow in their vulnerabilities, rather than exercise their power over their own
destiny.
Aryana doesn’t dream of everlasting love. Her life is ruled by a song that echoes from the halls of
Oblivia, a fate that came to her under the thundering hooves of the Mares of Night. She is going
to die, but with no clue as to when or why, Aryana is forced to do everything she can to negate
the haunting words of fate, “Weakness dies and you are weak.”
But the gods are merciless in their meddling in the lives of powerful mortals and the ones they
love. How far will Trent have to fall for the weak female who steps in his life and claims his soul?
She woke up with a scream. Not the type that frequently follows the
expulsion of nightmares from the conscious mind, or the type that precedes
frantic running and terrified glances over a victim’s shoulder. Her scream
was purely erotic. It was wrenched free from her throat by an orgasm that
thrust her from her dreams. Aryana looked around to see Trent leaning
against the bathroom door. His eyes were heavily lidded and she would
have thought he was asleep if it hadn’t been for the muscle ticking in his
jaw.
“You have very imaginative dreams, Aryana.”
“I... something’s wrong.”
He laughed and she cursed trying to keep her body from writhing on the
bed. The soft chuckle plucked at her body’s carnal strings, tempting her like
a sensuous Spanish guitar solo to perform a horizontal dance.
“Nothing is wrong. You’re actually starting the Rut. It only gets worse
from here on out.”
“Not much for...” she gasped as a spike of desire shot through her. “Pep
talks not your thing are they?”
“I could tell you pretty lies, but you’d soon find out the truth. It’s better to
be prepared.”
“I need to get up.”
He shook his head. “Not happening.”
“Please... I need to take my underwear off. They’re bothering me.”
He rammed his hands into his pockets, which only drew her attention to
the obvious bulge in his jeans. Aryana smiled to herself. Trent wasn’t as icy
as he pretended to be.
“Can’t help you with that, sorry.”
Aryana expelled a string of creatively linked curses that didn’t even
make sense to her. A wave of pure need coursed through her. Her body
undulated against the bed causing the rope to scrape against her wrists.
That drew a moan from her, the rope serving only to tweak the sexual
frenzy building deep in her.
“Mikko, please...”
Aryana supposed she should be thankful that she at least got to know
her Soul’s Mate. Many never were graced with the knowledge of what their
mate’s soul looked like. At least she had that. If only she could live forever,
know him forever. Love him forever. But her time on earth was measured in
days, if not hours. She should get started memorizing every inch of the
ones she loved so that they could ease her when she went to Gardas’
eternal embrace.
*************
Lykil watched Afri in silence, remembering the eons of history they
shared, the way they’d carved each other in misery and called it love.
Once, long ago he’d wanted this woman like he’d wanted nothing else.
He’d ruined her and for that he owed her. At least until she sharpened her
blade and carved him back, her wound to him made deeper from the scorn
in her heart. Still he would not deny the truth of what he felt about the
woman before him.
“I love you, Afri. I probably always will. But you will never be the woman
that I will remake the universe for. When I create from the abyss of
darkness, it isn’t you who will inspire the change. My drive to be better, love
stronger, conquer a woman’s soul the way one conquers land will never be
driven by my love for you.” He smirked at her. “My love for you was one of
convenience and inexperience with the notion of love itself. I didn’t
understand that Love is a powerful thing. How it could start wars, end wars,
give a man the strength to stand strong in the face of defeat, or bring him to
his fucking knees. What we shared was simplistic in its creation, therefore
all the more shallow. Never forget that you hold all facets of love. We will
never be love everlasting. Do I need to remind you what you did to me,
Love? Or have I made it clear how little I love you?”
Pride comes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.—
Proverbs 16: 18, KJV
For him to quote the human biblical text meant one thing. He was going
to make her truly miserable, that not even their gods could save her from
Death’s wrath.
Shit.
Kelsey Jordan is the author of The Gardinian World novels. Though she has a preference for all things paranormal and romantic, Kelsey admits she just writes what her muse demands of her. It’s less painful that way. When she isn’t enjoying the momentary benefits of playing god to the many characters that live in her head, she can usually be found curled up with a book, killing something in a video game, or spending time with her family. At some point in the day she is probably drinking more than her recommended dose of coffee, but don’t tell her that. She doesn’t care about recommended servings.As a Texas native and self-described Air Force brat, Kelsey now lives in Georgia with her husband and their tutu-wearing minion.
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