Samhain Publishing Ltd Weblog

DUALITY by Renee Wildes IN PRINT!

I’ve always believed in fairytales and HEAs, so I’m pleased to introduce my own version of Cinderella. Dara’s a half dragon fire mage, public healer and secret warrior, who’s trying to oust a demon-possessed despot from her land. But even dragons need help with demons. Enter elven warrior-prince Loren and his war mare Hani’ena, who decides to help whether Dara wants it or not. Falling in love really can mess up the best-laid war plans…

BLURB:
Dara Khan Androcles is really in over her head this time. From childhood she’s been forced to hide her half-dragon mage fighting skills behind a public persona as a healer. Now, with a traitor and his demon threatening the throne of Safehold, Dara has no choice but to turn reluctant warrior—and seek help.

She strikes a bargain with runaway Elven prince Loren ta Cedric and his sentient, pain-in-the-butt war mare, Hani’ena. Loren’s not only too handsome for Dara’s own good, the powerful empath can see right through to the pain that drives her.

Loren can’t help but feel Dara’s every hurt, physical and emotional. Though his need for her drives him half mad, he must stay his course to see justice done for his people. Even if it means swearing a Life Debt to the distracting mortal.

That vow, made in the heat of their parallel quests, carries more power than either of them guessed. The power to bond the unlikely pair as Life Mates. The power to lay bare the fears and desires that could bind them to a single purpose—or tear them apart.

All the while a demon awaits, ready to destroy all that they hold dear.

Warning: Contains patricide; noble self-sacrifice; one bad-ass, demon-possessed despot; a bad-tempered dragon; and a water mage who likes to “rain” on her husband’s parade—literally. Downside: A quest for a magic book (written in blood) that nobody wants, and a talking war mare with the warm, fuzzy voice of Judy Densch. Upside: Serious ass-kicking. Be prepared to learn to curse, cry and laugh—in Elvish.

EXCERPT:
When much of the filth did not come off with repeated applications of soap, Loren realized with horror and pity to what extent the bruises spread. He tried to be gentle, but Dara still hissed a time or two. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Her cheeks flamed as he scrubbed every available inch of bare golden skin with fern-scented soap, then rinsed her with clean water.

He kept his face impassive as he ran the rag over her full breasts. Her nipples tightened, beckoning. He forced his hand not to linger. Dara caught her breath. From the coolness of the water, or in reaction to his touch? “Turn over.” He cursed the hoarseness in his voice. He scrubbed her shoulders and back, then lower, below the binding, over the lush curve of her backside all the way down to her toes, until every inch of unbruised skin gleamed golden in the firelight.

His body clenched when she quivered at his touch. Uncertainty. Awareness. Hers, or his own wishful thinking? To distract himself, he stared, entranced, at that skin. He had expected burns in addition to bruises and abrasions, lots of burns. There were none, except from the iron bindings. The rest of her was unmarked by the flames she had stood in, but the ropes and wood had burned away. He himself was blistered and singed. There had been no time yet for trance-healing on this northward flight.

How could this be?

He rinsed the rag and ran it up betwixt her legs, dragging it through coppery curls. Heat greeted his touch, and he hardened to the point of pain.

Fear.

It was a dash of ice water. He froze and backed off. “Did he…hurt you?” Murderous rage flared at what Jalad might have done.

Dara shook her head. When she looked back at him, her eyes were wide with shock and a churning mixture of emotions. A maiden’s uncertainty warred with tentative yearning and instinctive arousal. “Nay. ’Tis just, I’ve ne’er…no man’s e’er…”

Blinding need to be her first, her only, slammed into him. “Never fear that I would hurt you.” He would die first. “Can you kneel? I can do your hair.” He helped her up and unbound her braid. Hot, dirty water cascaded over her hair. That once-glorious river of flame. He scrubbed with the soap. “This is going to be cold” was the only warning he gave her afore dumping icy clean spring water over her, carrying away the last traces of Jalad’s hospitality.

She yelped as she flung her hair back. “It feels so good to be clean again. Thank you.”

Loren helped her wring out long sections. Unbidden, an image of it wrapped around their naked, entwined bodies flashed in his mind’s eye. Silk and fire… He cursed and yanked his spare tunic over her head, grateful when it fell to her knees. “Sit by the fire. It will help dry your hair.” He shoved a wooden comb into her hand and turned away. “I go to wash the cloak so it can dry afore sleep time.” He gathered soap, rags and waterskin and fled to the spring afore she commented on the aroused state of his body that defied all his control. So much for chivalry.