I love a good release day, but i am especially excited to share this book with you. As a writer, i fall in love with all my leading men and adore my heroines, i hear their stories and write–simple as that!
BUT Blane I ADORED! He is just that perfect mix of damaged, hurting and menacing male, and i just fell in love with him. Don’t tell my other characters, but i think Blane is my favourite. LOL
I am going to giveaway one copy of Rapunzel to one commenter!
Please enjoy the excerpt x
Blane came awake to the suffocating stench of sulphur. Sweat poured from his skin and he shook with the bite of cold that sat in the air. His head throbbed a merciless beat within his skull and his throat felt like it had been sanded with glass paper every time he tried to swallow.
“Fuck!” Blane croaked, wincing almost immediately as the foul word scored an even deeper ravine into his throat. The space was dark, the only light, from a small, arrowhead window on the far wall. The floor was wood with a dusting of hay, Blane frowned when he realised he was laid on his coat. He glanced down, ignoring the agony that ripped up his spine from the movement, and saw that his arm had been crudely bandaged with the sleeve of his shirt.
Confusion swarmed his mind and he grunted and huffed, heaving his agony-riddled body into a slumped sitting position against the wall. He scanned the small, square room and his brain began to fill in the gaps between falling from the rampart wall and now. He was in a prison. Not a comfortable, bed-and-a-bog prison, no, this was a cold, death-smelling dungeon. The walls were slick with moisture, rivulets of rain flowing like mini rivers down the brick. The roof was nothing more than timber slats over a wooden spire twenty feet above his head, more water dripped readily through the wide gaps. The air was frigid, damp and filled with sounds from the castle. Metal against metal clanged in the distance and Blane
could hear the unmistakable moan of deep, mournful misery from somewhere outside the door.
No doubt about it, this was probably the worst place Blane had ever been in. And that was saying something considering Blane had been nothing more than a street urchin after his family had died.
Blane, turned his attention to his arm. Now that his brain had woken up fully, he remembered the arrow that had ripped into his flesh, knocking him off the ramparts. He tentatively reached to lift the make-shift bandage to see the damage, but a slight sound of movement off to his left caught his attention. Blane flicked his head around to see a small form huddled in the corner.
He squinted to see through the gloomy light and frowned when he saw a small woman hugging her knees. Wide eyes stared back at Blane—fear and hesitancy shining from her shadowed orbs. Her long hair flowed all around her and seemed to pool on the floor like heavy, silken curtains. Blane couldn’t see the exact colour because of the low light, but his mind whispered that it was red.
She sat still like a statue, not moving even to take a breath, and Blane wondered what the fuck a woman was doing in a place like this? A deep moan of agony filtered into the room through the floor as if to punctuate Blane’s thoughts.
He let his gaze roam past her face and his heart broke at the sight of her ragged clothes and her dirty bare feet. His eyes had become accustomed to the light, and he could see how filthy the woman was.
Her small, thin fingers gripped the front of her legs, and as he scrutinised her, she folded herself in closer, making herself appear, if possible, smaller. Her eyes, which he now could see were blue, filled with shame and Blane forced his gaze away.
He and shame were close friends, nobody knew better than Blane how the thought of someone judging you burned into the soul.
Blane shook his head, anger and outrage heated his gut. He glanced at his bandaged arm and then turned his gaze back to the silent woman.
“Did you do this for me?” he asked. He kept the volume of his voice low so as not to startle her, but even he winced at the gravelly sound his parched throat gave.
The woman tucked her chin tighter onto her knees and watched Blane from behind her lowered lashes. Her blue stare flicked to his arm and back up to his face before she nodded slowly.
Blane sensed her fear, he literally watched as she fought with her entire body. She shook and gripped her skirts with heart breaking desperation.
“Thank you,” Blane said simply. He wanted to set her at ease, to make her know that he was no threat to her at all. But by the way the woman was curled up and her terrified state, he doubted two words would make her trust him.
She frowned, but nodded again, a simple movement that was filled with fear and confusion.
Chloe, princess of the iron fey and heir to the throne, is trapped. Kidnapped from her life at the young age of fifteen and imprisoned by the Vulcans, she has suffered at their hands for more than a decade.
Broken weak and hopeless, she has long stopped dreaming of a better life.
When a large demon is captured by the Vulcans and thrown into her tower, Chloe has no idea that fate has a plan.
Bent on fulfilling a promise he made to his dying mother, Blane finds himself behind bars. Locked in the legendary Vulcan tower, with a woman he fears is his mate, Blane realizes that even the best laid plans can fail.
Blane never wanted a mate. Never wanted anyone to rely on him. But can he walk away from the one woman who is meant to be the other half of his soul?
Available from Secret Cravings Publishing TODAY! http://store.secretcravingspublishing.com/index.php?main_page=book_info&cPath=4&products_id=576