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Hi Readers,
Tammie here to introduce you to a wonderful paranormal erotic romance series. I read the first book in the "
Sister of the Moon" series last year and was hooked. Since then I've been checking every so often to see if book two was out or when it was slated to arrive. Recently I finely found some info that it was due out on Aug. 8th - YAY. Now with book two coming I wanted to share that with you all. The author Billi Jean was kind enough to give us an excerpt to share with you all. Please do get book one first before starting into book two. Book one is titled "
Midnight Star". Book two "
Silver's Chance". You can find details on these books as well as purchase links at:
http://www.nightowlromance.com/nor/Authors/Billi-Jean.aspx
BLURB: SILVER'S CHANCE
When life throws Samantha a curve ball in the form of an ancient Lykae warlord bent on marking her as his – what’s she going to do? Run like hell? Oh, yeah, that so worked the first time around. With Derrick hot after her tail, Samantha discovers being the hunted just might not be as bad as she thought.
Derrick is a warlord hardened by centuries of battle. Now that he’s free from years of torment, he discovers his mate. Only his beautiful little half wolf is as determined to deny him, as he is to claim her.
As the battle to keep her safe intensifies, Derrick faces the biggest fight of his life: winning Samantha’s heart and keeping alive long enough to claim her.
Together they just might tame each other.
EXCERPT: SILVER'S CHANCE
Derrick inhaled the intoxicating blend of sweetness and spice from the small, beautiful female facing him. Standing as if poised for flight, she was still more beautiful than the freedom she'd given him. Her sweet scent reminded him of something, something spiced with brown sugar and cinnamon out of his past. She would become his future. His. His to claim. His to have. She belonged to him. With him. Her sweetness filtered through every cell in his body imparting essential parts of her to him.
Her pink, soft lips parted. The wariness she'd displayed since he first saw the blue of her eyes intensified in her gaze. She feared him.
The idea gave him pause. Confusion mixed with possessiveness pounded through his wrecked body and mind. His wolf paced, eager for her. The animal recognized its mate and demanded she do the same. Here. Now. Derrick firmed his control, until he felt the pressure to take, mark, to claim recede into a dull sense of wariness.
Slowly, very slowly he loosened his hold on her slender forearm.
She broke the light hold immediately and took a cautious step backward as if anticipating his coming after her. She looked ready to leave, much as she had before. Or mayhap she wanted to fight him. Both options were impossible.
He shook his head to clear it, feeling heat rise up the back of his neck. He needed to appear calm. Shaking his head like a wolf wouldn't earn her trust. As he watched her expressive face, he tried to figure out how he'd upset her. He'd snarled at her. Yelled when she'd ripped the bolts free. Everything else had been a blur of scents, sounds, images, filtered through his wolf and his own panic at the thought of losing her.
Whatever he'd done, he had to remember to exert more control over himself. She didn't appear too confident in his leash on his wolf. He needed to reassure her.
"Thank ye for aiding me . . . ." He paused, hoping she would supply her name.
After several deep breaths, she cleared her throat. Her blue eyes flickered over him under her dark, delicate brows, and she nodded.
"Samantha."
Samantha. A beautiful name. Her voice made him wonder what she would sound like when he claimed her. At the thought, his cock surged, dulling the pain of his wounds. After so long without any stirring, the swelling of his cock made him lightheaded. Slowly, realization sank in. He was free. He stood near his mate. His cock pounded with life. What more could he want?
Samantha eyed him warily, reminding him she might have freed him, but he was far from free to claim her.
"We should think of leaving soon. I sense danger still. Should I try to heal, uh, the damage?" She inspected him like he was a green recruit, not a warlord.
As well she should. Shame deadened his body. He had dreamed of her for years, and now she'd not only found him, but freed him from bonds he'd been unable to break —until her.
"Nay, I will heal verra quickly. Ye ken?"
She seemed to worry over his words, but before he could assure her further, she nodded absently and shifted her gaze to the cavernous hall, then quickly back to him again. She spoke differently than anyone he'd heard before. Fast, clipped, odd phrases fell from her pink lips too quickly for him to follow.
Or mayhap he spoke too roughly. It'd been years since he'd walked his home grounds. Even before his capture, he'd not been home in ages. He spoke several languages, and yet her English sounded foreign to him. If he had to guess by her slight pauses after he spoke, his words were just as unclear.
"This place, it's deserted, right?"
He nodded. This he understood perfectly. He wanted to reassure her, so he spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "Aye, for a verra long time, this place has been deserted."
She nodded as he spoke, clearly put at ease. He sensed something else as well. Disappointment, mayhap? Had she wanted others to be here?
He remembered when the cavernous hall had echoed with evil. He thanked whatever god had led her to find him now rather than when Death Stalkers filled the halls. The years of torture rose up painfully in his mind, as if by thinking on them they took root and grew.
Samantha took a step back from him. Instantly, she gained his full attention, and the painful memories blew away like leaves in a gale.
Blue eyes, eerie they were so blue, met his steadily, her anxiousness clearly lessening as space separated them.
His chest tightened. His wolf paced. Perhaps she sensed his tenuous control. Shame heated his neck. After years of dreaming of her, he met her this way, when he could barely hold himself back from making her his. The instinct to claim roared to life at the thought of her soft, delicate flesh cradling him. He wanted closeness, comfort, and ease after years of loneliness. Proof she wasn't a dream.
"So, look, we'd best go—" She paused, giving him a questioning glance.
"Derrick, ma name is Derrick."
She nodded slowly.
His words had been too hasty, rushed. He'd slow down, and mayhap she would as well.
"My name is Derrick."
"Yeah, got that the first time. So, how long have you been down here?"
He fought the urge to grin. She didn't slow her speech, yet he understood her better than before. What to say? He'd been held for so long, he couldn't remember. Instead of answering, he reached up and rubbed a hand over his neck, the slice of pain in his damaged shoulder further proof this was not a dream. How long? He'd long since lost count of the years. What was the point? When the Death Stalkers had first tricked him, using a female child as bait, he'd fought to the death. They'd captured him with a sleeping potion delivered by a dart to the back of his neck. When he'd woken, he'd found himself in hell. Years of torture and torment followed. They'd meant to break him, force him to take the dark vows, and join their ranks. He never had. After endless years of torture, they'd seemingly grown bored with him and left him to rot, bolted to this cavern wall, alone and full of misery and regrets. Even now, he feared the woman before him was merely a trick. A dream.
"Hello? Earth to Derrick? I asked how long you've been here."
Startled out of his thoughts, he focused. Obviously, she was real. More real than he'd ever dared to dream. But now, standing before him, one hand out, rolling it in a motion meant to hurry him up, she surprised him with her boldness. He reached out to take her hand. She immediately scurried back, a frown pulling her brows together in a signal not to touch her. It stung. Hurt.
"Decades, mayhap longer, Samantha." He let her name roll from his tongue, wanting to say it again and again, but she gave him her little frown as if he'd fucked up again. He stared at her, unable to take her determined expression seriously. Her faced enchanted him. Heart-shaped, with bright, intelligent eyes under her black, winged brows, a slim, perfect nose and soft, pink lips, she struck him as some small, delicate, Faye princess. But most assuredly not in need of rescuing. A smile tugged at his lips, unfamiliar after so long, but welcome. She'd rescued him, hadn't she?
Her skin was like cream, silky white against the multitude of raven twists and complicated braids weaving the long midnight tresses away from her face. Dressed in a snug, black leather corset laced tightly over high, firm breasts, and matching leather trousers, she looked both fierce and sexy. The way her curvy, little body fit into the sinful leather was indecent. He experienced a shot of jealousy at the idea of any male seeing her dressed in such clothing. He wouldn't mind her wearing these sexy things in their home—hell, he'd beg her to—but where others could spy her lush curves and fantasize over the valley between her full breasts? No' a chance.
"Mmm, decades." Still eyeing him cautiously, she blew out a breath. "We need to shift out of here. If you're sure you don't need me to attempt a healing . . . ?"
Her blue eyes traced over the shoulder he'd ripped open. In concern? Or irritation? "I heal verra quickly. We should leave now."
"Then we'd best hit it. It'll be nightfall soon. I can shift us up to my jeep, and we can go from there."
"Shift?" This worried him. He didn't worry over her leaving him. Now he had his freedom even if she left him, he'd find her—no matter where. But this witchy gift made his hackles stand on end. Yet, without her, could he have torn himself free? It had taken her magic to free him. Or the threat of her leaving, he reminded himself.
Clearly impatient with him, she gave a sexy toss of her head and blew wisps of hair off her face.
Did she know how fetching her little gesture was?
"Yes, shift. Have you shifted before?"
"Dae ye come here alone? Dae ye keen evil once lived in this place?" He attempted to keep the censure out of his tone, but his voice sounded rough and demanding.
Hand anchored on a hip, she turned her blue gaze up to meet his with a look of utter annoyance. "Yes, I came here alone. Why would I endanger my friends?"
Anger broke the surface of his already-chaotic emotions. Did she not realize the danger she put herself in by being here?
He took a step toward her. Twin blades of silver appeared in her hands. Cool steel kissed his neck. Amazed, but more amused, he still frowned down at her, warning her with a low-toned growl. Mates did not harm mates.
"Watch it, beastie boy. Now, do you want to go? Or do you want to stay?"
Amusement won over anger. Even his wolf wanted to play. "I will go. Dae ye wish to take me in parts? Or whole?"
"Please. Just try not to beast out. You're a big wolf, all right? It's not easy shifting that much . . . ." She exhaled loudly and muttered, "Bulk," under her breath. She gave him a measuring look, hesitating at his hips. When her gaze caught there, he felt his body harden to steel for her. She jerked her gaze back up to his face, narrowing her eyes with obvious suspicion, as if he'd caused his erection to show off.
"I will keep my bulk. All of it, if ye dinna mind. I will have need of it, thank ye." Soon he wanted to add, but her body language spoke louder and more understandably than her words not to push.
"Huh, yeah, well, just try to keep it down, 'kay?"
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Will it harm ye to shift me?"
She gave an offended snort for his concern.
He curled his lips.
"Just hold on, and try to keep the beast down."
--Billi Jean---
http://readingwritingromance.blogspot.com
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