Blood Moon (19 page)

Aslyn frowned, trying to make sense of
what he was saying and drawing a blank. It dawned upon her finally
that the dream she’d dreamt for many years had been no dream at
all. She had always thought the scars were from some long forgotten
mishap as a child. She had never considered that the bite she
remembered from her ‘dream’ had been real and the scar had been the
result.

“In truth, it was a child’s game I
played then. I imagined you growing up to be a princess and myself
as the knight who would come to steal you away, but even then I
knew when I marked you that you could not escape the fate I’d given
you. When you attained womanhood, your beast would take
you.

“My father punished me, of course, sent
me to Renoir as squire, here in the valley of the clan. I thought
that I had outgrown that childish infatuation. Perhaps, I had. But
when I saw you on the road to Krackensled, I saw my mark upon your
hand and knew your beast had led you to me.”

“You
made me a werebeast?” Aslyn said, trying to grasp the thought.
She was a werefox, not a werewolf, not vicious, not one who preyed
upon humans. Was it less revolting because she found she was not
the same as Algar? Or was it less revolting because of her love for
Kale?

“Yes. I gave you the mark of the beast,
my mark. The second mark was to warn Algar of my claim upon you …
lest he think the beast who’d claimed you had released his claim.
The third sealed your fate, binding you to me.”

“Third?”

“The night we made love, we mated for
life.”

Aslyn thought about that for several
moments, searching in vain for indignation. “You did not give me a
choice.”

“No. I was … afraid you would choose
another.”

Aslyn frowned. “This is a very strange
way to tell me you love me,” she said irritably.

He turned to look at her, studied her a
long moment, and finally smiled. Reaching for her, he pulled her
across his chest. “It is far more than loving. It is a mating of
two souls.”

Aslyn’s brows rose. “Just the
same.”

“You didn’t tell me you loved me,” he
pointed out.

Aslyn sniffed. “Mayhap I do … mayhap
not. I was not wooed as I fully deserved.”

Kale looked deeply into her eyes then
growled, rolling until she was beneath him. “Do not play your games
with me, woman! Say it!”

Aslyn chuckled. “I might, but only if I
hear the words I want to hear.”

“You’re a stubborn wench!”

“That is not the three little words I
want to hear!”

“I ... love … you,” he
growled.

Aslyn thought about it. “That was not
very prettily said, growling at me as if I was plucking the hair on
your chest!”

Kale cut her off by kissing her. She
looked up at him dreamily when he released her at last. “You could
always show me how much you adore me,” she said a little
breathlessly.

His golden eyes gleamed. “With all my
heart,” he said.

The End

Coming this Summer and Fall from
KK&M, LLC

A Lamentation of Swans by
Goldie McBride

The Curse of Pandora’s
Box
by Goldie McBride

Cyberevolution I: The
Awakening by
Kaitlyn O’Connor—Science
Fiction

The Lawgivers: Gabriel
by
Kaitlyn O’Connor—Science
Fiction

When Night Falls
by K. O. Connor—Science Fiction

An Ambush of Tigers
by Mandy Monroe—Paranormal

Bride of Atlantis
by Madelaine Montague—paranormal

Thief of Hearts by
Kimberly Zant—paranormal/erotica

White as Snow
by Jaide Fox—Fantasy

Ravished by
Julia Keaton—Historical

Intergalactic Bad
Boys
by Jaide Fox—science
fiction

Hell’s Breeds: Mark of the
Wolf by
Madelaine
Montague—paranormal

Nocturnal
by Madelaine Montague—paranormal

Utter Domination
byCeleste Anwar—paranormal

Belly of the Beast
by Desiree Acuna—Erotica/ fantasy

The Dragon Lord
by Kaitlyn O’Connor—Science Fiction

Punished
by Kimberly Zant—erotica

Red as Blood
byJaide Fox—fantasy

His Wicked Ways
byJulia Keaton—historical

Excerpts from upcoming books
follow

Lamentation of Swans

By

Goldie McBride

Chapter One

Gwyneth had never seen an
elf—no magical beings of any kind. Of course, she’d
heard
of elves, but she’d
never expected to actually see one. They rarely left their magical
realms to walk among mortals and she’d never been beyond the castle
gates in her life, doubted she ever would. A mixture of curiosity
and awe filled her as she studied the one currently testing the
chains that bound him, momentarily diverting her from the
tempestuous emotions roiling inside of her. The long black hair
that hung halfway to his waist was as inky as a starless night.
She’d caught a flash of bluish highlights when they’d dragged the
would-be assassin through the castle gates and across the bailey,
like the glint of sunlight on a raven’s wing, which proved it to be
a profound black and not merely a very dark brown. His skin was
golden brown.

She wondered if he was one
of those referred to as a dark elf, or if it had nothing to do with
coloring at all but rather a dark heart. She shouldn’t have been in
any doubt, she supposed, since he’d been caught in the very act of
committing the most treacherous of deeds, but she was far more
filled with awe and admiration than revulsion, and that was
before
she’d seen
him.

Now that she’d seen
him—well, she could barely catch her breath. She felt dizzy and hot
and completely confused. Her heart was palpitating at a frantic
pace, her ears ringing. It almost felt like fear, except she knew
it wasn’t. It felt like—
desire
, but she could hardly credit
that, could’ve more easily accepted the fear. Why would she feel
want or need for
that
–with him—when she could think of few things she found more
disgusting, frightening, and painful?

It confused her, but she was more
certain that it wasn’t fear that was making her feel so strange.
She supposed it was wicked of her that she didn’t see his attempt
on the king’s life as proof of a dark heart, but she didn’t. The
truth was, she was far from alone in despising the king. There
would’ve been far more folk of the realm who would’ve considered
him a hero if he’d succeeded than a villain and she was one of
them.

It was one of the things that had
nerved her to approach him, the possibility, however vague, that he
was nothing like the men of the castle, nothing like a mortal man,
all of whom seemed to be nothing more than slight variations of the
king, who was a vile creature as far as she was
concerned.

It was almost disappointing to see
that, beyond the very distinctive ears, there was not a great deal
to set him apart physically from the men she saw every day. He was
as near naked as he could possibly be and still retain even a bare
modicum of decency. He’d arrived shirtless and barefooted, his
breeches shredded until there was almost nothing left to the
imagination.

She was a little disturbed that the
‘little’ that had been left to imagination had made her breathless
with conjecture.

She couldn’t fathom why.

If there was anything she hated more
than men’s quick tempers, quicker fists, and nasty habits, it was
their ‘nasty sticks’. She would’ve been a happy woman if she’d
thought it possible she would never encounter another.

She couldn’t deny that the elf’s form
was pleasing to her senses, but she wasn’t even certain of why she
found his form pleasing. He was tall and lean. Maybe it was the
fact that he was still muscular for all that when the men she was
more familiar with than she’d ever wanted to be were either skinny
sticks with virtually no muscle at all, or beefy and hauled around
as much fat as muscle?

There was no doubt in her mind that he
had plenty of muscle to make him physically powerful, and yet that
lean form must also make him swift and nimble.

A wave of nausea abruptly shunted her
eager curiosity aside, for almost the moment her imagination
supplied her with an image of that handsome face above hers, that
pleasing body striving above hers, her mind supplanted them with
real memories that were far from pleasant.

Thom had managed to corner
her before she could slip out of the great hall only a little
earlier when she’d helped to serve the evening meal. She’d become
adroit at avoiding the men-at-arms, but she’d been
distracted—by
him
.
She’d allowed her mind to stray at the most dangerous of times and
she’d paid for it in flesh.

She’d been witless enough to struggle
on top of the stupidity of allowing herself to get cornered and now
it wasn’t just her woman’s flesh that was battered. She was bruised
and battered all over from his roughness. Her face was still
throbbing where he’d cuffed her with his fist.

She could thank her stars he wasn’t
the brute Bradford was, she supposed. Otherwise he might have
killed her instead of merely rattling her brains in her head. Then
again, she might’ve been able to elude Bradford. He wasn’t as young
as Thom and he was a sight heavier. She’d managed to elude
Bradford’s clutches the last time he’d tried for her when she’d
accidentally planted her foot in the midst of his
genitals.

Of course, she’d had to hide for nigh
a month to avoid the lesson he’d promised and poor Meg had ended up
having to endure instead, but as badly as she’d felt about it she’d
never been able to bring herself to simply endure as the others
did.

She didn’t think she could bear it
anymore at all—not another moment, not another day.

She hadn’t even had her first menses
when the men-at-arms had noticed her budding breasts and commenced
to laying in wait for her. The first time had been the absolute
worst, but she couldn’t say that any time since had been a great
deal better beyond not being as painful in her woman’s place. For
the most part, she managed to avoid capture, but she had her
duties. Cook would beat her and chase her from the kitchen if she
tried to hide to avoid having to help with serving and every meal
since that first time she’d been caught had been a living
nightmare.

“Do you have a purpose for skulking
there in the shadows? Or have you merely come to gape, mortal?” the
elf growled, jerking Gwyneth from her thoughts, startling her so
badly that she nearly dropped the peace offerings she’d brought to
try to help her bribe the assassin.

Gwyneth clutched the wine skin and the
bundle of cheese and bread a little more tightly, wrestling with
the craven urge to run away. As unnerving as the elf was, though,
her desperation won out.

“How did you know I was here?” she
asked in a low voice.

He turned his head when she spoke and
she could see him focus on the wall she stood behind, almost as if
he could see the thin crevice she was peering through.

His lips curled. “I could smell
you.”

The insult jolted through her in a
shockwave. Anger slowly flickered to life in the wake of
it.

Truthfully, she smelled the stench on
herself—not hers, but Thom’s. At least, it hadn’t been hers before
he’d shoved her to the rushes and coupled with her like a dog.
She’d been trying to close her mind to it because it reminded her
too strongly of what had happened and made her feel sick to her
stomach.

It was hard to ignore the fact that he
hadn’t actually looked toward her until she’d spoken,
however.

The anger began to war with the fear
and desperation churning inside of her. Beyond the fact that he’d
insulted her without provocation, she wondered if it wasn’t a
strong indication that he was no better than those she’d hoped he
would help her escape from. It seemed unavoidable that he was
merely angry and lashing out at the nearest object handy as they so
often did.

As tempted as she was to simply turn
around and leave the way she’d come, though, there was no hope
behind her. It remained to be seen if there was hope before her. “I
brought you something to eat,” she said finally, swallowing her
anger and her fear with an effort.

He was silent for so long she thought
he’d decided to ignore her. “You’ve taken a strange route to bring
food.”

There was a question in the comment
and she realized much, if not all, of his anger had vanished. It
had at least diminished and it made hope rise in her that she’d
been mistaken.