Series: The Last Tritan Book 1
Genre: Adult Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fantasy
Publication Date: February 1, 2019
His people took everything from me, and Goddess be damned if I won't take it back.
“I’ll be good to you,” he purred and swept his thumb over my pendant, caressing. His ki surged into my mind, hammering at me with a soothing promise, abusing the link he’d left behind with a kiss. “You’ll never want for anything…”
Asher promises to teach me the forbidden while my city—my home—burns at his back. Because of him, Tritan falls, and the Caledonian forces take the best of my people for their own sick uses.
To fight, those of us who remain must flee. Regroup, or submit.
But he’s coming, hunting me, and Asher won’t stop until I wear his mark. Until my goddess-given power is his to command.
He’s tasted my lips and fed me nothing but lies, but his betrayal has given me strength even he didn’t expect.
His people took everything from me, and Goddess be damned if I won’t take it back.
Excerpt
A low groan rumbled in his throat, and he swallowed, catching my wrist in a much larger hand. For a long moment, he simply stared down at me, but when my tongue darted out to wet lips dried by searing winds of ki and living shadows, something in him snapped. I felt it happen. Even before he pressed his lips to mine, I felt it.
Warm and soft, his kiss spoke of the forbidden. The impossible. Making my core clench with unnatural speed and fervor as ki whirled between us. Sending blood surging in delicate tissue. All around us. Invisible to the hoards of sightless mundane going about their business a scant few feet away, where only their shades could see us. The scrape of a day-old beard dragged a splintered groan from my chest, and, hands slipping down my back, he seized the taut globes of my bottom. Spreading me.
Pulling me closer.
Would that he could drag me inside his skin, where I could drink him dry and soothe this blessed, painful ache.
His teeth traced my lower lip, filling my lungs with breath and heated ki, pressing a thick bulge against my belly.
I gasped, drinking him in, demanding more. Gorging until my every cell was filled to bursting. Drawing on him as heavily as I drew upon his lips. Needing it. More. There would never be enough.
A puff of breath warmed my cheek when he twisted, breaking away from my lips with a curse, his fingers bunching the fabric of my shift. Inching it indecently high. But he drew back, setting his forehead against mine. Petting my hair back with calloused hands. Obsidian eyes concealed behind scrunched eyelids, labored breath leaving my skin damp. “God, the taste of you, girl.” He released my bottom and cupped the back of my neck, forcing me to still. “What are you?”
“I’m—” my voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, blinking as the world settled around us. Dazed, I squinted up at the man, admiring the rugged, handsome features so different to my own. Alien. Bronzed skin, muscular frame, dark hair and darker eyes—everything I wasn’t.
A Caledonian.
Kissing a Caledonian Elite in public? Had I lost my damned mind? My father would…
Nothing.
My father wasn’t here. And I hadn’t had enough. Not now. Not ever.
I buried my fist in his hair, pulling him back. Driven by instinct I didn’t recognize as my own. By a needy itch below the skin, the likes of which I’d never felt before. Before him...
About Myra Danvers
Raised by her awesome parents in Canada's snowy north, Myra learned perseverance from an early age. She learned to speak in third person, via extensive reading as a child, because... well... Northern Canada gets a LOT of snow. And when one isn't snowboarding, building quinzees, or waking up to teddy bears frozen to the floor, one tends to read about places that are warm--even if being cold is preferable to being hot, every-damn-time.
All that reading gave Myra the gypsy bug. So, after college, (where she majored in professional gypsying) she moved to a ski resort in British Colombia to be a ski bum and chase the winter, because the cold was in her bones and it never bothered her anyway. (Points because Elsa of Frozen is her spirit animal?)
But then life caught up with her, as it does, and now she's stuffed full of enough life experience to write until transcendence (where she will be first in line to get a sweet android body and travel the universe until the end of time). So that's what she does, when she's not listening to the voices or taking apart the electronics just to see their insides.
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