Wicked Paradise
Authors: Erin Richards
Tags: #fantasy, #romance, #paranormal, #demons, #sorcerers, #suspense, #Druids, #dystopian, #new, #adult
WICKED PARADISE
ERIN RICHARDS
He must defy duty to have her…on an island that would possess them both.
After a deadly storm tosses demon assassin Ryan O'Rourke into the Pacific Ocean, he washes ashore onto an unchartered island thriving with magic and evil. Ryan's hell-bent on returning to California’s wasteland to battle the resurrected Fomorian demons plaguing the dwindling human race. But when he stumbles across the enchantress who tantalizes his dreams to the point of madness, his plans unravel. She stirs in him a hunger that puts his life’s purpose at risk…forcing him to dare the unthinkable and choose between duty and desire.
Morgan of the Druids, a powerful sorceress from medieval times, has magic coveted by both good and evil. Desperate to save a future post-apocalyptic world, sorcerers send Morgan through time to an island paradise to kill the long-imprisoned demon responsible for Earth’s devastation. Only Morgan contains the perfect blend of magic and a bond to the fiercest demon assassin of the 21st century to destroy the demon…a bond as lethal as it is desirable to the dangerous man intruding upon her dreams.
With the demon lurking behind every tree, Morgan and Ryan will risk it all—even each other—in a perilous and shocking race to save the last humans on Earth.
Praise for
Wicked Paradise
“Full of vivid imagery and an amazing plot,
Wicked Paradise
is a gem in the fantasy romance genre.” ~
Long and Short Reviews
“Wickedly sexy story! Ms. Richards has woven a lush tale of desire, betrayal, and mystery in
Wicked Paradise
. The story is a novel mix of fantasy and dystopian, with enough to satisfy readers who love either genre.” ~Jennifer Shea, author of
Blood in the Stars
“Wonderful combination of fantasy and romance.” ~
WiLoveBooks Reviews
“Ancient Avalon, Druid magic, time travel, twenty-first century post-apocalyptic ruin, high adventure, and romance! Kudos to Ms. Richards for mingling it all together and delivering a novel that entertains, surprises, and enthralls. I loved it!” ~Deborah O’Neill Cordes, co-author of
The Roman Time-Travel Series
by Morgan O’Neill.
“Wicked Paradise
pushes all my romance buttons. And the writing is superb…. If you want a fun, frightening frolic through a steamy jungle while the fate of the world hangs in the balance, then this book’s for you.” ~Beth Yarnall, author of
Rush
and
Dyed and Gone.
“The chemistry between Ryan and Morgan is exciting and steamy.” ~
Liberty Ann’s Snifferwalk Books
“Overall, this story blew me away. Riveting, intriguing, and scenes so well written the reader feels like they are front and center in the middle of it all. This was a magical, sexy, beautiful adventure that I was glad to have taken a ride on. A job well done to this author, and I await and anticipate much more!” ~
Storm Goddess Book Reviews
Other Books by Erin Richards
Chasing Shadows
Vigilante Nights
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
The last day of Morgan’s life dawned gray and dismal, absurdly appropriate for her looming death. Ten years ago, her Seer’s Sight had foretold her death on this day, and her infernal Sight rarely failed her. She had told no one about the awful prophecy, not even her powerful sorcerer father. At twenty-two that day, she was prepared to pass on to the Afterlife.
Not that I have a bloody choice
. With a catch in her throat, Morgan swatted the thinning velvet drapery aside. Gripping the cold stone windowsill, she stared out her window for the last time. Chills seeped into her as the morning sunlight lost its challenge to the thick fog ghosting the courtyard’s scattered structures. The buildings on the hillside were almost invisible.
“Accursed fog!” She thumped a fist on her thigh. “Perfect day, perfect death.” Icy jaws of anguish clamped down on her insides.
Damn the Fates
. Why had her Sight not revealed more about how she would die? In some small way, she had prepared for this day. Yet, who ever prepared for death? Her stomach knotted as questions kept pricking her like thirsty mosquitos.
She deliberately closed off her mind to her doomed fate, instead diverting her attention to the vision that had flung her out of a fitful sleep that morning. Who was the tall, handsome sorcerer in the vision who held her in his arms and danced with her on a moonlit beach below a lush jungle? Fire magic had sizzled between them, gyrating and tangoing together in perfect harmony. Was it merely a far-fetched longing her mind conjured up on her final day on Avalon? At least until the horrid foresight at the dream’s end turned her tingles of desire into the stabbing pain of prophecy.
Even now, the foresight jabbed an ache behind her eyes, refusing to release its hold on her mind. The wild storm, the drowning wave, the unfamiliar man’s desolation, and the swirling sea of despair as his internal fire winked out as water submerged him. She remembered pressing her lips to her dream sorcerer, giving him the breath of life until the ocean claimed him and he drifted away, a wry smile locked onto his face. Flailing about in the watery grave, she pushed against the murky currents to reach him, all to no avail. She had spied a spot of light clutched in his hand...and the face of horrendous malevolence met her gaze. Gleeful, howling laughter ripped her out of sleep and out of her vision, her body burning with desire, a cry of terror on her lips. Sweat-drenched, Morgan had awoken that morning shivering in her cold, lonely bed.
“I will never learn what the vision meant.” She shoved away from the window and added peat to the embers in the fireplace. The instant she straightened from the slate hearth, the heavy door swung into the stone wall. Her pulse quickened.
“Morgan! Why are you dallying?” her father roared, barreling into her bedchamber. His long, graying hair flew in every direction, his blue eyes blazed with his ire until a hint of sadness flashed across them. “You were to meet me an hour ago.” He rushed to her bulging packs and picked them up. “Come along. We have little time to waste.”
“Sorry. I...I overslept.” The vision flashed across her mind, touching upon the erotic chapter at the beginning, sending fierce heat to her cheeks. “Why didn’t you send someone for me earlier?”
Her father gave her a bemused look, an infrequent flush working his weather-beaten complexion. As the High Sorcerer, not only did he have the ability to scry into the present and future, he had the ability to read thoughts. She always instinctively blocked her mind from his intrusions, and they had an unwritten agreement never to pry. At times, they both slipped. As in that moment.
For the love of purgatory, steal me away now
. Morgan dipped her head, shoved her arms in her coat. Sweet hell, she had no reason to feel ashamed of idiotic dreams or her Sight. Besides, she couldn’t stop her sleeping mind from going astray on its own. A hot throb grew in her throat and spread downward. She narrowed her eyes at the fire, wishing she hadn’t stoked it.
“I was finishing a delicate potion,” he finally replied, regaining his composure.
She hid a smile. Her father always lost himself in his herbs and spells. “Good morning, Gwilym.” Using his given name was a long-accustomed habit from her sorcery training days. Most often, she used it teasingly. This time, only sorrow and wistfulness hung on her voice.
Morgan took her packs from him and slung them over her shoulder. He advised her a week ago to prepare for time away from home and duties on her birth date. He implied a lengthy journey, but divulged no more.
There was no need to say more—she already knew her fate.
Taking no chances, she packed her most cherished possessions, several changes of clothes, her finest herbs, and traveling food. If her prophecy came true, she would need these tokens of status for her journey to the Otherworld.
Her father approached and kissed her forehead. “Good birth day to you, my beloved daughter.” Valerian wafted strongly off his tunic and she wrinkled her nose to stifle a sneeze.
“Thank you.” Suffering his groans of compliance, she brushed a smudge of green powder off his sleeve.
He snatched her hand in his warm clasp. “Now come along. I have a gift awaiting you.”
They left the castle and hiked briskly along the well-worn path that cut through the forest to the Sacred Stones. The woods closed about them, and unease chilled Morgan well before the cool air seeped through her layers of clothing.
“The only gift I want is for everyone to gain freedom from this island,” she grumbled to herself, hitching her satchel over her shoulder to even the load. Would there be a safe place off this cursed island for every inhabitant who didn’t know any better? The injustices of the old Gods and Goddesses who had forsaken Avalon left her with a persistent anger. Morgan stomped on a mushroom, pulverizing it into the thick forest mulch.
The trail narrowed to one body’s span and Gwilym took the lead at a fast clip. Morgan nearly had to run to maintain pace, afraid to lose sight of him regardless of the well-marked path. Birds trilled and small animals scurried over sodden leaves and crumbling twigs. Forest noises increased the hammering of Morgan’s heart. The pungent decay in the dense undergrowth added fuel to a new foreboding inside her.
“Father, why the haste? I’m sure my gift is not going anywhere. It’s not as if we can leave this gods-forsaken land in my lifetime.”
Maybe he prophesied that my foresight was a poorly disguised jest, and I will awaken from a bad dream under a glorious spring sun...dancing in the arms of my mythical lover
.
Memories of her morning’s delicious dream infused her with torrid heat.
Again!
Could she not let her unknown dream lover go? For the sake of the Goddess, she was
the
High Druid Sorceress. She didn’t need a man! She certainly had no need for what her nocturnal mind summoned and made her body covet.
“Morgan, hurry along. You will learn soon enough.”
She kicked a pinecone into the woods, booting the visions out of her mind. Passion and love were not stars in her destiny. She’d resigned herself to that fact once she reached marriageable age and no man of proper bloodlines existed on Avalon. Her family and her people demanded she mate with one of equal stature. Instead, Avalon stifled her potential, her life, and her desires. Born too late in a fading world, little remained for her to do but perish with it. Exactly what her prophecy had predicted.
Bloody hell of a life
.
Losing sight of Gwilym, Morgan lurched forward, slipping on a fist-sized stone. She grabbed a prickly fir limb for balance. A squirrel crashed through a thicket to her right, shaking her tenuous foothold. Smoothing her hand over her stomach, she felt the childhood scars beneath her tunic. Inhaling deeply, the fresh scent of pine and fir helped quell her inane fear.
The jagged path took a turn up a sharp incline and the smothering trees thinned. They climbed a few steps higher until the trail leveled off. Primroses reached for the late morning sun at the forest’s edge. Ahead, the fog grew lacey around the perimeter of the forest, and the morning brightened, cheering her mood somewhat.
“Why are you taking me to the stones? I certainly don’t need gifts from you.”
Gwilym uttered an odd humorless chuckle. “This is as much for me as it is for you.”
The pathway’s final bend carried them into the lush spring meadow at the hilltop. Morgan’s breathing eclipsed the silence of the sliver of heaven. Brilliant sunshine bathed the crest, the sky as blue as the summer ocean surrounding the island. Wildflowers perfumed the air, swallowing the lingering odors of the woods and the remainder of Morgan’s fear.
