Tag Archives: Paranormal Women’s Fiction

by | May 14, 2024 · 5:00 am

Uncertain Foundations Teaser Tuesday

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Uncertain Foundations cover

LGBTQ, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: May 17, 2024

 

 

They’ve been there for each other through death and life, through
pain and joy. Their love life has held them together through all external
dangers. But what happens when the threat seems to come from within?

Charlie, half werewolf, has never felt so uncertain. Everything he’s
trusted in — his eyesight, his psychic ability, his confidence in making
decisions — is under attack. Even his mate, his Life dancer, Luis, seems
untrustworthy.

Luis, a psychic vampire, is consumed by terror and paranoia. Unable to tell
fact from fiction, and feeling Charlie pulling away, he lashes out.

These two lovers who have stood the test of time find themselves on
unsteady ground. Can their love prevail despite the terror working its way
through the pack?

 

Uncertain Foundations phone

EXCERPT

Luis stood his back to a wall. He gazed across the crowded room to his Life
Dancer, who was shaking hands with Princess Angelina Oakland. Scanning the
princess’s living room quickly, Luis noted the approaching dawn
lightening the sky in the east and the Pakistani land dragon speaking
quietly with Claudette, the water dragon from Western New York. He felt like
a stalker, watching all these people in their final moments of conversation
and leave-taking, but he wouldn’t let Charlie, his Life Dancer, be
alone. Too much had happened during this last delegate gathering.

“Go downstairs,” Charlie said, turning his head away from the
princess to meet Miguel’s gaze. The blood-dependent vampire, slave to
the darkness of night, was swaying on his feet.

“You are leaving,” Miguel said.

“This morning,” Charlie agreed.

“I wanted to say thank you.” He nodded to Princess Angelina.
“To you as well, Your Highness. I have lived without hope for many
years. To have it again is a marvelous blessing. And it wouldn’t have
been possible, Tilthos Charles, without your assistance.”

“You’re welcome, but if you thank me again, I’m going to
have to demand payment.” Charlie sounded more concerned than flippant
despite his words. “Go. Down. Stairs. We’ll meet
again.”

Miguel shook hands with both of them and headed from the room.

He passed close to Luis and said softly, “Your lover is a beacon of
hope.” Then he was gone.

Luis watched Charlie making the rounds of the other magical creatures in
the room. All of these others were ignoring Luis, as if he was just a
bodyguard. That suited Luis just fine. Charlie didn’t really need his
protection, not in this room, and not usually in the world at large. The
leader of all the werewolves on this and the southern continent was only
half werewolf, and visually impaired also, but he’d held his position
without others defending him for over half a decade. He was confident. He
was strong.

And sexy as hell.

Luis firmly turned his thoughts from that particular channel because some
of the magical creatures gathered here had great senses of smell.
They’d know he was aroused if he allowed himself the luxury of
thinking of his Life Dancer without clothes on.

Charlie’s thoughts drifted through Luis’s mind, his psychic
tone lightly teasing. I think it’s too late for you to hide
anything.

Luis smirked and thought back, Good.

Gradually, the heads of this or that species left, taking their chauffeured
rides to private airplanes. Agent Jack Sowerby would be meeting some of them
at Baltimore-Washington International Airport, but some wouldn’t allow
the new head of SearchLight to see them off. Claudette, the water dragon,
was one of these, preferring to keep her exact departure a secret.

Luis knew she was flying out of Dulles, the airport south of here in
Virginia, but he was a tracker. It was his job to know the comings and
goings of those who might be a threat to SearchLight. Or to his Life
Dancer.

As the room emptied, he wondered if the princess would let him and Charlie
have one last fling in the bedroom she’d set aside for them. Although,
even if she did, Charlie might not want to hang around. He was anxious to
get back to their displaced pack.

“Tilthos Charles, do you need to rest before starting on your drive
home?” Princess Angelina asked as if she’d read Luis’s
mind. He didn’t think she had telepathy, and his shields were mostly
up anyway.

“That would be a better question for Luis, since I can’t
drive,” Charlie said, sounding amused. He tapped the end of his white
cane on the parquet floor. “Thank you, but I think we should get
going.”

Luis thought, keeping it hidden from his Life Dancer, Damn. And I was
hoping to be driving without blue balls.

Still, he had to admit he wanted to get home. And not just so that the
Tilthos Pack could return from where they’d been scattered to when all
the dominant protectors were occupied here in DC and Maryland. Luis had
concerns about those pack members here: Jeremy, Ethan, and Charlie.

Jeremy and Ethan would be driving back at some point soon, but first, Ethan
needed to regain his human shape. He’d taken to sticking close to
Jeremy and their son, Will, but in his werewolf guise. It was as if he
thought being in four-footed would somehow protect him from further
pain.

Luis had absolutely no doubt Jeremy would take care of his mate. The Night
Wanderer was protective anyway, and since Ethan had been forced to —

“Luis?”

He blinked, startled out of his thoughts by his Life Dancer calling his
name. Charlie stood about ten feet away, his gaze unfocused, as it always
was when he wasn’t trying to read some large print or looking at a
picture eight-year-old Will had drawn.

Luis crossed to him and touched his shoulder. “What is it?” he
asked gently.

“I guess you missed the change in plans.”

Luis smiled guiltily. “I was lost in my own world.”

“I realized –” Charlie said, lowering his voice and bending so
he could put his mouth next to Luis’s ear. “I need you before we
head out.”

Luis’s cock raised its head and he felt his asshole constrict in
anticipation. “Not here,” he ventured.

“Well, in this house, but, no, not in the living room. If we stained
any of her pillows or cushions, I’m sure Angelina would throw us out
and bill us through the nose.” He took Luis’s hand, pressing the
shaft of the white cane between their palms. “Will you guide
me?”

Luis knew Charlie didn’t mean that literally. He was independent to a
fault, was Tilthos Charles McLaughlin, alpha above all alphas. But having
Charlie make the request made Luis harder still. He kissed Charlie’s
palm and then encouraged him to take his arm.

Swinging his cane out before his feet, Charlie “followed” Luis
up the stairs and down the hall. The warmth of his hand, firm on the back of
Luis’s arm, was ambrosia to the anxiety Luis had been feeling for the
last week or so. Charlie trusted him. He glanced back and saw
Charlie’s eyes were closed and his cane no longer touched the floor.
He was letting Luis guide him completely.

Luis’s heart rose and he swallowed against sudden, stupid tears.
“Te amo, Charlie,” he whispered.

A mischievous smile lit Charlie’s dark and handsome features.
“Of course, you do.”

Luis snorted. But before he could retort, Charlie stopped walking and
pulled Luis into a tight embrace. Luis inhaled, loving the scent of his
lover’s aftershave.

“I love you too. Now, come on. I need you.”

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a
host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,”
Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a
passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central
or on her website.

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Emily on Facebook

Emily on Twitter

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

 

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by | May 9, 2024 · 5:00 am

Obedience Blitz

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Obedience cover

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Romantic Comedy

Date Published: May 10, 2024

A princess with a problem…

Meela must marry a prince from another planet in order to ensure the
security of her people. Trouble is Meela’s known to be a bit feisty, and
sometimes that gets her into trouble. It’s bad enough she has no say in who
she’ll marry. Worse still, the queen places an obedience curse on Meela to
thwart her errant ways.

As a result of the curse, Meela finds herself in plenty of predicaments not
exactly fit for a princess. But what’s a princess to do when two gorgeous
hunks come along and place sensual demands on her Meela’s not sure she can
— or even wants to — deny?

 

 

 

Obedience cellphone

EXCERPT

 

Meela stared into the flowing red river before kneeling on the grassy bank
to sulk. The red colored water rushing by her looked like blood. There were
so many red rivers on the planet that they’d looked like veins on its
surface to Meela when the star cruiser she’d traveled in approached it
earlier.

Now that she was here, she wished that someone had told her to throw
herself in the river. Her nurse had only told her to take a walk to calm her
mind. It was a rare freedom for Meela. Probably her last.

Today was the day Meela had been preparing for her whole life. Later today
she would be presented to the queen of this planet along with two other
princesses from neighboring planets. The queen would then allow her sons to
each choose the girl he wanted for his bride beginning with her oldest son,
her heir.

It wasn’t that Meela minded the arranged marriage. She was a princess after
all and her duty was to her people. Her marriage to a Prince of Nelot, the
strongest planet with the most powerful army in the system, would ensure the
protection of her people. She’d been promised in marriage since her birth
and all of her teachings were in preparation for fulfilling this
obligation.

Meela accepted that.

But when she was sixteen, the Queen of Nelot, a sorceress she was to find
out, paid a visit to Meela and her family on their home planet, Bano. She
wanted to meet Meela, considering one day she would be the bride of one of
her sons.

The queen was pleased with Meela. A little too pleased in fact. She
explained to Meela’s parents that their daughter was indeed beautiful,
cultured and intelligent — befitting a Princess of Nelot. But she felt
those very virtues put Meela in danger from others and from herself until
the wedding, so she placed an enchantment upon Meela. From that day forward,
Meela would be obedient, would do whatever she was told, until her future
husband arranged her release from the spell.

Her life had been misery ever since.

At first, Meela and her family didn’t realize just what curse had been
bestowed upon her. A few nights later Meela became angry at her father for
not allowing her some privilege. She sat complaining in her rooms while her
nurse brushed her hair. Finally her frustrated nurse told her to hold her
tongue.

It had taken several hours for the entire family to discover that someone
had to tell Meela to let go of her tongue before she could pry her fingers
away.

It got worse. While her parents enjoyed their new power over Meela, the
power to make her work at her studies longer and attend royal functions in
their places, soon they learned there was a danger to the curse. Once, one
of Meela’s friends at court had dared her to kiss the handsome visiting
ambassador from the planet Dalu. Unable to stop herself, she’d walked right
up to the man and kissed him full on the mouth.

Her parents had been so alarmed by the turn of events that she was placed
under the strictest watch until the time of her wedding. No more fun outings
with her friends. No more boring royal functions even. Meela was only
allowed to attend the most important celebrations on her planet, and then
only for a short time with at least a dozen people watching her every
movement. They might as well have locked her away in a prison.

Perhaps that is what the Queen of Nelot had intended when she’d placed the
enchantment on her.

Years passed while the Princes of Nelot fought off one legion of intruders
to their system after another, the stories of their glorious victories
painting them as great warriors. By the time the Queen of Nelot sent for
Meela for the bridal selection and subsequent wedding, she was twenty-seven,
going out of her mind with boredom, and had taken to finding creative ways
of watching the private activities of guests to the palace. It was as close
as she had ever come to having sex after all.

And now that she was here on Nelot, ready to be selected by one of the
queen’s sons and do her duty for her parents and her people, she was pretty
damned unhappy. Wasn’t it enough of a sacrifice to have the person she’d
spend her life with, share a bed with and have children for, chosen for her?
Then to have the hateful curse of obedience placed on her, robbing her of
her last years of freedom?

Meela no longer wanted to marry any son of the woman who had done this to
her. Meela didn’t even want to meet the princes.

“It’s not fair,” Meela grumbled at her reflection far below in
the red water.

“What’s not fair?”

That deep male voice alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone.
With as much composure as she could muster, Meela turned her head slowly.
She was unescorted, without any of her attendants who understood her
enchantment, for the first time since she had kissed the ambassador at
court. The pace of her heartbeat grew along with her anxiety.

“That I can’t stay and enjoy this beautiful view,” Meela said in
her best royal voice with her practiced princess smile.

Yet she forgot all about how she was to speak or smile as she gazed at the
two men standing before her, their dress indicating that they were common
soldiers of the planet. They looked very much alike, both tall men with
bodies of steel, the snug black uniforms they wore revealing that they were
all hard, firm muscles.

 

About the Author

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer,
programmer, and internet junkie. When she’s not trying to perfect her own
personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing
volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and
chatting with readers and friends.

Isabella would love to hear from her readers!

 

Author Website

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
 @changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

 

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by | April 19, 2024 · 5:00 am

Arcane Kiss Blitz

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Arcane Kiss cover

Alternative Universe, Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Date Published: Apri 12, 2024

 

 

Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman
abilities, but when his father is murdered, the military veteran becomes a
target for terrorist sorcerers. Alone, Kurt finds he’s no match for the
witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist Genevieve
Reyes for help in fighting the killers’ spells.

As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared
desire. But they soon realize Kurt’s passion for Gen weakens his control
over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Genevieve is
attracted to Kurt’s animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much
danger from his tiger as she is from the terrorists.

Even if Kurt and Gen manage to stop the terrorists, their evil sorcery may
trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with
magical Talent — including Kurt and Genevieve.

Arcane Kiss paperback

 

EXCERPT

The tiger bounded toward him in a blur of striped fur and powerful muscle.
Kurt Briggs braced himself as the big cat reared to thump huge paws down on
his shoulders. Somehow he managed not to fall on his ass, though eight feet
of cat made an awkward dance partner. Rumbling, the beast touched a cool,
damp nose to Kurt’s.

“Hi to you, too, Stoli.” Kurt dug his fingers in thick reddish
gold fur to give his Familiar a scratch.

Golden eyes narrowed in feline ecstasy and Stoli chuffed a greeting. The
tiger dropped to all fours again, and turned toward the lake with a flick of
his striped tail. Kurt strolled after him across the thick grass.

Through the trees ahead Kurt spotted the flickering glint of afternoon
sunlight on water — the spring-fed lake that lay at the heart of Briggs
Feral Sanctuary. Another tiger lounged in the shallows, six hundred pounds
of stripes, attitude and luminous golden eyes.

Dave gave them a lazy blink, indolent as a pasha. And like a pasha, he
apparently had a harem — or at least a gang of devoted fans. Ten female
volunteers clustered just outside the enclosure fence as close as they dared
get. Dressed in shorts, hats and T-shirts with the BFS lion logo, they all
wore grins of anticipation as they waited for him to do something amazing.
Or, knowing Dave, inappropriate.

Stoli catapulted off the bank, sailed through the air, and landed on the
other cat with a huge splash. The volunteers fled the arcing water, yelping
and laughing.

Dave roared, batting at Stoli’s nose with sheathed claws. “Back
off, Tigger! Do I look like fuckin’ Pooh Bear to you?”

Stoli raced off, chuffing like a giggling ten-year-old who’d pranked
his brother. Which was exactly what he was. The two cats had been
littermates before they’d melded with their human partners. Otherwise
they couldn’t have shared an enclosure. Their fights would have been
real.

“You’d better run, asshole! I’ll turn you into a
rug!” Dave flopped back down in the water with a huff of feline
disdain. “The crap I put up with.”

Kurt’s grin faded. Dave did indeed put up with a hell of a lot. A
year ago he’d been Dave Frost, a member of Kurt’s Arcane Corps
unit — a tall, lanky blond with a wicked sense of humor. But that was
before Dave had died, leaving his soul trapped in the body of Smilodon, his
Familiar.

Another man might have surrendered to bitterness and grief for his lost
humanity. Dave taught himself to talk by making the air vibrate with magic
instead of human vocal cords. Now he was building a thriving career as a
YouTube smartass.

“You got me all wet,” a blonde volunteer complained, pretending
to pout as she pulled at her soaked shirt.

The tiger gave her a toothy grin. “My pleasure.”

“Ladies, quit flirting with the wildlife and finish cleaning the
enclosures.” Kurt put a little subsonic rumble in his voice. Dave
wasn’t the only one who could manipulate sound with his magic.
“We don’t want BFS to smell like the world’s biggest
litter box.”

“Killjoy,” Dave complained.

“You heard the man.” Karla Morgen, the volunteer coordinator,
made a shooing gesture at the women. “The poop won’t scoop
itself.”

“You know,” Kurt told Dave as the volunteers scattered,
“you couldn’t be any more a ham if you were Porky
Pig.”

“How else would I bring home the bacon?” Dave flicked a paw,
and an invisible snare drum banged out a rimshot.

Kurt laughed. “You’re getting scary with the magical sound
effects.”

“I live to terrify. Speaking of performances, how many tickets did we
sell last night? Looked like every inch of the arena bleachers had
somebody’s butt on it.”

“Pretty much.” BFS’s Feral 101 show was designed to
educate sanctuary visitors about big cats. They’d livened it up with a
demonstration of Feral abilities, but the material had still been as dry as
sawdust — until Dave had taken the emcee job in his capable paws. “We
brought in five thousand in ticket sales and donations, plus another
thousand for selfies and souvenirs.”

And they needed every dime. Keeping fifty-nine exotic cats fed and healthy
wasn’t something you did on a shoestring.

Dave gave him a smug smile. “I has skillz. I also has half a million
followers.”

“You’re just lucky they don’t know what an asshole you
are.”

“I’m a tiger. We’re supposed to be assholes.”

Movement across the lake drew Kurt’s attention. In the next
enclosure, a lion came to the water’s edge, accompanied by his two
lionesses. Staring at the tigers, the Familiar roared.

 

 

About the Author

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published
more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and
Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades,
Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement
award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards
for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press
LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work,
Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South
Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband,
Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police
department.

 

Contact Links

Author’s Website

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

Purchase Today

 

 

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by | April 18, 2024 · 5:00 am

Sleeping Dragon Preorder Blitz

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Sleeping Dragon Preorder cover

Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Women’s Fiction, LGBTQ

Date Published: April 19, 2024

 

 

Youltan lives a life of obligation and service, a slave to the desires of
others, harnessing the strange and powerful chaotic energies known as Ice
Magic. After a final betrayal by the people he protects, he finds himself
transported to the one being who holds the key to his freedom.

The wards tattooed across Garyn’s back ensure his total compliance,
trapping him in his own form of slavery, until one of the traitorous Mages,
the kind that devised this tortuous penance, is placed in his prison. Now
manipulating his way to freedom rules the sex-shifting dragon’s mind.

Garyn never expects Youltan to willingly sacrifice so much for a person he
barely knows. Nor does he expect to find the a core of passionate heat that
exists deep within Youltan’s soul. The fight for survival takes on new
dimensions and strains the very threads of their honor and morality.

But what would you expect….when you prod a Sleeping Dragon?

 

Sleeping Dragon Preorder paperback

 

EXCERPT

 

Feet braced apart, arms extended to their maximum length, he stood and
waited. There was nothing in his mind; his world was a blank slate, waiting
to be filled, waiting for the agonizing pleasure… and the horrific
pain.

Slowly, it began, drawing its energy from the very earth on which he stood.
Pulsing writhing ropes of energy, of magic, of power, twined around
themselves as they sought a rod, a bearer for their might.

Around his ankles they looped, slowly, like some starving creature seeking
sustenance. And what they found seemed to please them, for they began to
roll up the length of his body. Faster and faster they twined, their colors
the brilliant blue that exists in the heart of every fire, the icy white of
the coldest glacier, a sharp glaze of power blinding all who dared watch
this spectacle.

Up around his knees they crept, gaining confidence and speed with every
second. On and on, around his waist, over his chest, across his shoulders
until his head jerked back as if snapped by some unknown entity.

Blood-red lips parted, a scream locked within a frozen throat, and a fall
of silver white hair blew madly around his form in a wind created by power
and magic. Bright lavender eyes snapped open to reveal luminescent sparks of
pure white that illuminated those strange orbs, the eyes of an alien-one,
and the eyes of the demented.

Then the power seemed to lash out at its conduit, raising him to his toes
as wave after wave of pure energy penetrated his body, gained a purpose,
grew in its strength.

His body arched, his arms flying above his head as the sheer strength of
the thing that possessed him brought him to his toes, building and building
until his whole person was one shining, glowing being that seemed almost too
beautiful to view, yet too sinister and compelling to look away from.

Suddenly, a cry erupted from his throat, loud, agonized. The cry echoed
over the land as the very earth began to quake beneath his feet.

His piercing scream startled the onlookers, the curious who had gathered to
view this unusual feat, to watch what both heaven and hell had wrought and
then left to travel this land that they called their own.

But they were too stunned to look away, transfixed.

As he continued to scream, cry after cry of ecstatic pain, the energy that
converged on his body began to coagulate, to meld into one large beam of
power.

Still screaming, he forced his arms toward the pulsing dome that surrounded
the land, the thing that honor and history demanded he tend to, no matter
the cost.

His sudden silence was almost as unnerving as his screams had been, as the
world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, as the tension built around
the young man, as the very gods seemed to tremble in fear.

Then, as the tension built to a plateau, then nothing. Soon the people
began to breathe easy, thinking the show was over, then one final
high-pitched scream exploded from his mouth.

And with that cry, a monstrous beam of light and power leapt from his body.
Blue, silver, white, it all mended and swirled as warring colors shot from
his body, his eyes, his mouth, following its given path, striking the
shields with an audible crash that almost sounded like the shrieking cry of
pure crystal shattering.

His body gave way in the face of such a massive energy burst, but the power
would not let his body fall. It supported him, swirled around him almost
lovingly, then began to drain the very life force from his body.

Head tossed back to its farthest, hair whipping around that face, obscuring
its near beauty from the frightened yet silent watchers, his body bowed and
his knees bent as he fought to retain some of himself from the hungry
energies that sought to leach his very essence from his body.

Trembling and panting, he whimpered once as the beam began to lose its
brilliant illumination, then faded altogether, growing weaker and weaker as
the conduit struggled to reclaim part of himself from the massive outpouring
of power.

Then, suddenly, almost as if it had never been, the beam of light
dispersed, exploded into a million glittering sparkles, before disappearing
cleanly from sight.

With a groan, the conduit dropped to his knees, his body falling backwards
as all the energy seemed to leave with the passing of the beam.

He knelt there, supple body bent backwards, breath struggling in his chest,
as his strange, lavender eyes drifted shut.

Then, as he took his first full breath, the watchers were amazed to see a
shadowy mist exhaled into the brilliant heat of the day, a breath that
seemed as cold as the arctic islands they once harnessed to create that
shield that protected them from the evils of the outside world.

Then his whole body began to spasm.

About the Author

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning
author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually
confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to
pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do
more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and
world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts,
an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing
cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied
legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female
characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and
multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

 

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

 

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by | January 16, 2024 · 5:00 am

Toran Teaser Tuesday

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Toran cover

A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novella

(Unbound, Book 7)

 

Paranormal Women’s Fiction

Publication Date: ‎
January 19, 2024

Publisher: ‎Changeling Press LLC

 

 

Toran Bladewielder’s life was upended when a battle injury forced him
to leave his order — the Holy Defenders of the Gods. It is upended again
when he catches a thief pilfering food from the warehouse he is guarding.
Although the miscreant turns out to be a beautiful woman, his duty is to
hand her over to the authorities.

But when he discovers she is a slave who escaped from a ship in the harbor,
his sense of right and wrong urges him to hide her.

Desperate to maintain her freedom, Farah will do anything escape the
clutches of her cruel master — even seduce a man whose sexual innocence and
moral decency are clear to her.

But as she angles to keep Toran on her side, their relationship heats up.
Neither expected to ever find love, yet the intensity between them builds —
until Lord Camari’s men find Farah and drag her back to him for
punishment. Can Toran rescue her, and is there any way for these unlikely
lovers can forge a lasting relationship?

 

EXCERPT

Toran Unbound

Rebecca York

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2024 Rebecca York

 

Toran Bladewielder lurked in the darkness of the warehouse, determined to
catch the thief who had been stealing foodstuffs from recent shipments.
Repressing a wince of pain, he leaned back against the building’s
rough stone wall to ease the ache in his leg. Six months ago, he had been a
Holy Defender — a member of the religious order which preserved the
authority of the gods. Then in a battle far from home, he had been struck
down by a blow from an infidel.

The injury to his leg had made him unfit for military service, and he had
been unceremoniously shipped back to his home monastery. There he had been
given a choice — accept the menial jobs of tending the garden and preparing
food for his brothers — or leave the order. After the exhilaration of
battle, he was unable to envision a life of such work. With a heavy heart,
he had chosen to renounce his vows.

For months he had felt like a brigantine without a rudder, adrift on an
unknown sea, until his old schoolmate Gareth Lamb had offered him a
guard’s job in one of the Glencarn warehouses that he and Prince
Gawain owned. It was a far cry from his former holy mission, but at least it
was work that could utilize some of his fighting skills.

When he wasn’t at his post, he was working to strengthen his ruined
leg. The combination kept him from tipping over the edge into the black
despair that had threatened to swallow him whole.

It had been a routine job — until the last few days. Now he had a real
puzzle to solve. No one had been able to catch the sneak thief helping
himself to a recent shipment of foodstuffs from far off Amorn, although the
evidence of his work was as plain as an open box of dates or an unsealed
amphora. But the knave was well-nigh invisible.

Invisible? Toran snorted. That was mere fantasy, but the lout always seemed
to know when it was safe to strike — leaving only the evidence of his
thievery.

Not tonight. Toran had worked out a plan to capture the culprit. He made
his preparations during the day, then stationed himself in one of the
smaller side rooms of the dockside building.

But the plan had its own disadvantages. After hours of waiting in the
shadows, his bad leg had begun to throb. Soon he would have to shift his
positions, and that would give him away. He clenched his fists, his jaw set
in a hard line as he fought down the pain.

He was about to give up when the sound of soft, stealthy footsteps put him
on alert. Someone had come into the room where Toran had stacked crates of
the cargo that the thief had been plundering. He stayed where he was,
determined to win the upper hand this time. He could not see into the room
where the bait was stacked, but when his keen ears detected the squeak of a
nail being eased from a crate lid, he readied himself to pull on the cord in
his right hand.

To his surprise, he heard a sudden flailing as though his quarry had
somehow realized what was about to happen. But it was already too
late.

The rope released a net that fell from the ceiling over the boxes — and
over the brigand who stood beside them.

The man let out a high-pitched scream, then scrabbled as he tried
desperately to disentangle himself from the web, but the edges were
weighted, making it hard to lift.

Toran sprang from his hiding place and moved across the stone floor as
quickly as he could. But he had been standing in place for too long. His bad
leg gave out, and he ended up going down in a heap. Luckily, the netting
trap gave him the time to crawl forward and come down on top of the
struggling prisoner.

They lay entangled on the cold floor, both breathing hard, the miscreant
trying desperately to get away, and Toran just as determined to hold onto
his captive. As the man thrashed about, Toran felt spindly arms and legs, a
slender back, and a mass of soft hair. An unusual combination, he thought as
he pulled the webbing tight, gathering it around the prisoner as though he
were securing a wild animal in a net.

“Stop struggling or you will hurt yourself,” he advised.

The words were met with a stout kick to his bad leg that might have hurt if
the netting hadn’t truncated the blow.

It was too dark in the warehouse to see the struggling form. Ignoring his
throbbing knee, Toran gathered up net and captive and dragged them across
the floor and through the cargo door onto the riverside wharf where he had
left a lantern burning on a hook.

At this hour of the night, there was no one else about. As he dragged his
bundle, he added to his impressions of the thief. This was no full-grown
man. It must be a youth — mayhap a desperate street urchin who was using
the shipments as a source of food. Still, stealing was stealing, and it must
stop.

Angry that the exertion had him breathing hard, Toran grabbed the prisoner
by the hair and turned him to his back so that he was suddenly looking down
into frightened green eyes. They were the first thing he saw, but he quickly
took in more details. Wild dark hair framing a delicate face. A small nose,
a slender neck. His gaze traveled farther downward, seeing ragged clothing
of a cut he did not recognize. Not pants below the dirty shirt, but skirts.
As a former holy brother, he had little experience with skirts or anything
else to do with the female sex. Quickly his gaze traveled upward again,
seeing twin mounds pushing up at the chest. This was no slender lad. It was
a girl.

“Blood of the gods,” he croaked. “Who are
you?”

She looked away. “Nobody.” Her voice was soft and strangely
accented.

“A thief,” he answered his own question. “Look at
me.”

Slowly she turned her face back toward his, and he saw the look of
devastation in her eyes.

“Let me go and you will never see me again,” she
whispered.

“I cannot. You have stolen from a royal warehouse, and I must turn
you over to the prince’s guards.”

He saw her lips tremble. “I did it to keep myself alive.”

“Who are you?” he asked again.

 

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author Rebecca York began her
career as a journalist writing articles for newspapers and magazines, but
after several years decided to try writing fiction. She’s a highly
successful author of over 50 romantic suspense and paranormal novels and is
the head of the Columbia Writers Workshop. Her many awards include two Rita
finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times:
for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. Her Peregrine
Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense
Series. She collects rocks, and enjoys cooking, walking, reading, gardening,
travel, and Mozart operas.

 

Author Contact Links

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@changelingpress

 

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