Here it is, the promised sneak peek of Champion's Sword!
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Rose
Dappled sunlight filtered through the limbs of their tree. Briar's lips hovered hers as she breathed him in, leather and pine. His hand caressed her cheek so gently she barely felt it, as if seeking permission. It sent shivers through her. Still, she waited, sensing the pull between them, an ebb and flow of tides that had only strengthened over the last months. He inched closer, a moth drawn to a flame, before his mouth came down on hers.
He drew back, studying her, searching her depths for the answer to his questions. But whatever he was worried about, he pushed it to the side, leaning in to kiss her again.
"Mr. Dylan?" a voice called from somewhere in the garden.
Briar sighed, touching his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I have to go."
"I know," she whispered back, smiling as warmth rushed into her cheeks.
His fingers brushed away tears she hadn't known were there, his expression turning serious. Afraid. "Rose, stay with me. Promise me."
"Always."
"Rose!"
Her eyes shot open, and he was gone, replaced by pain and the ache of loss.
"Somebody stop him!"
Everything seemed to happen through a fog. Fenix snatched up the vials, purplish-silver liquid sloshing as he stuffed them into his pockets. She caught sight of a face, rocking in the chair with what little strength she had left. Rose cried out as it crashed to the floor, her injured arm hitting something hard.
"No!" she cried, straining against the ropes.
Wolves surrounded Caspian. She couldn't see much of the fight except for shadows and flashes of light. He was outnumbered. Injured. Trying to get to her. Her restraints cut into her arms as she struggled. Then he was limping to her side, snatching up the wand from the table as he fell to his knees.
"You have to take it back."
She shook her head, and he repeated the command, shouting this time.
He fumbled with the wand. After a moment, color flowed back out of it, the silver, red, and periwinkle, a thick strand of black mixed in. "Just yours, Rose." He brought it near the cut in her arm.
"I don't know . . . I can't . . ."
"You have to." He sounded frantic.
She bit her lip, seeking out the only thing that had mattered to her moments ago. The periwinkle separated from the other strands, flowing gently toward her. The red and silver followed, twining themselves with the periwinkle strand. She winced as it entered the bleeding wound. Warmth flooded her veins, and she inhaled, the key pulsing faintly with her heartbeat. It pumped slowly into her core and chest, mending her. But only so much.
Her lip quivered.
"Cas, look out!"
Caspian dropped the wand, rolling as Zilnn brought the dagger down. Rolled again, and . . .
Her bloodcurdling scream cut the air.
Light flashed. Zilnn's eyes fixed lifelessly on the ceiling. Blood poured through her cousin's fingers as he held pressure to a gash in his side.
"Keep going," he pleaded softly, eyes flickering to the wand.
"No. No, no, no, no." She stretched her hand, but she couldn't reach him, tied to the stupid chair. She reached for the dagger, just out of her grasp.
"Rose."
"Don't go," she sobbed. "You can't leave me too."
"Rose, it always had to be this way. They need you."
She wanted to scream that, no, she needed him. But he was fading fast. She whimpered as he dragged himself closer, until he could touch his bloody fingertips to her outstretched ones.
And that was how Riven found them, with Rose reaching for her cousin as he breathed his last breath, still insisting that she focus on healing herself, with doing the very thing he couldn't do. Live.
Reading . . .
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith
Fantasy
This is one of those books that had me metaphorically tipping my hat to the author. Not only is the book entertaining, but, as Vanity Fair puts it, there's a "weirdly well-researched" aspect to the story. It made the book feel so believable it was mildly unsettling. Two thumbs up!
That, gentlemen . . . that is why they thrive. That belief--that we live beyond the reach of darkness--is one that vampires have worked tirelessly to instill through the centuries . . ."
Warning for sensitive readers: The sequel, The Last American Vampire, has a considerable amount of gore. Despite this, I might have finished the book had it not been for the weird amount of sexual content.
The Match by Sarah Adams
Romance
I've given up any aspirations of becoming the woman who rinses out her mug and puts it right into the dishwasher when I'm done with it. I don't need that kind of pressure in my life.
Blessings,
J ♡
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