Felicity Heaton's Blog, page 5

December 27, 2017

FREE Holiday Paranormal Romance Short – Mistletoe Kisses!

It’s the season of giving, and so I plan to share with you my seasonal stories that I’ve written over the years. These are flash fictions, which are short pieces, all based on books I’ve written.

Next up, I’m sharing a seasonal scene based on PROPHECY TRILOGY in my Vampires Realm paranormal romance series!

mistletoekisses

Prophecy trudged along the frozen gravel drive, her toes and fingers numb and burning, and her heart as heavy as her eyelids. As if the past month spent fighting demons back so they could temporarily close the gate to Hell in Venturi’s Romanian castle hadn’t been tiring enough, she had told her driver to drop her off at the house of Aurorea on her way back from the airport in Prague.

Valentine hadn’t been home.

She’d had to walk across Prague through inches of freshly fallen snow to reach her own mansion.

Her home stood before her, warm and golden in the frigid winter night, welcoming and soothing some of the ache from her body and her heart.

Where was Valentine?

She wearily nodded her thanks when one of the guards at the entrance of the house pushed the door open for her and held it while she walked through. Warmth curled around her, the smell of log fires and quiet chatter of the vampires moving around the grand vestibule bringing a smile to her lips. A few of the vampires paused to greet her but she didn’t stop walking. If she did, she probably wouldn’t be able to start again. She wasn’t going to stop for anything other than a hot bath and a glass of blood.

Prophecy mounted the elegant staircase to the first floor. More of the tension eased from her bones with each step closer she got to her apartments. She couldn’t wait to sink into a hot bath. Venturi would have to wait for his phone call. He had insisted she contact him as soon as she returned and would be angry with her if she didn’t, but she was certain he would understand when she explained that she had walked across half of Prague in freezing conditions. Perhaps she could phone him from the bath. She would call Valentine too. He knew that she was coming back tonight. It wasn’t like him not to be around when she returned from her trips to Romania. Normally he was there at the airport, checking her over the moment she stepped off the small private jet her bloodline kept, and then kissing the breath from her.

Had something happened to him?

His bloodline, the Aurorea, didn’t seem to think so. Cornelius had simply said that Valentine was out. Out where? Hunting? Her stomach tightened and a growl rolled up her throat. She didn’t like the thought of Valentine hunting. She didn’t want her mate’s fangs in another woman’s throat.

With a snarl, she shoved the panelled wooden door to her rooms open.

Everything went dark.

Magic spun around her right hand, ribbons escaping the amulet she wore and warming her skin as they caressed her.

The scent of male vampire hit her, unfamiliar at first because of her initial burst of panic and then slowly revealing the owner of the hand clamped over her eyes and the hard body pressing against her back.

Valentine.

He lowered his head, his cheek brushing her ear and her throat, and inhaled slowly. “The Devil, I missed you.”

He dropped a soft kiss on the curve of her throat and his other arm snaked across her stomach, holding her against him.

“I missed you too… and I want to see you,” Prophecy said, unable to contain her eagerness to turn in his embrace and look upon the man she loved with all of her heart. She tried to turn but he wouldn’t allow it, his arms tightening around her. “Valentine? What are you up to?”

He chuckled close to her ear. “It is a surprise. When you were away I could not stop thinking about you, and about when we first met. I recalled you mentioning that you had never seen a sunset or a sunrise, and it made me think about all the other things you have never experienced.”

Prophecy frowned. He must have been thinking about her a lot. It warmed her, lightening her insides and making her smile, but also ignited a deep sense of curiosity inside her. There were a million things she had never experienced because she had been born part vampire part witch rather than being a human who had been sired by another vampire.

Before she could ask for a clue, he moved forwards with her, guiding her slowly into her apartments. The familiar smell of it soothed away the last of her weariness. Here in this room, with Valentine’s arms around her, holding her close to him, she was home.

“Do you know what day it is?” Valentine whispered against her cheek, his lips brushing it and thrilling her.

“No.” She didn’t have a clue. Was it special? Someone’s Death Day? No, she had experienced many celebrations for those. A birthday? She had one of those… and they had celebrated it last year.

She heard the door click shut behind her. The scent of log fire and heat swirled around her, combining with the warm smell of Valentine to make her relax into him. He sighed when she leaned her back against his hard chest.

“I believe it is customary to guess,” another male voice said and Prophecy couldn’t contain her grin, or her desire to have Valentine remove his hand so she could see what they had conspired about together without her knowing.

“Venturi, how in the Devil’s good name did you get here before me?” When she had left him in Romania this morning, he had told her that he wouldn’t see her for a few months. The liar. He must have boarded his own bloodline’s private jet shortly after she had taken off.

Had he known that she would go to Valentine’s home straight from the airport and had taken advantage of it to beat her here?

He laughed, the sound warm and intoxicating. She had come to like it whenever he laughed, and loved it when Valentine joined in too.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” she said, impatient now. She listened to Venturi moving around the room, tracking him with her senses, and was tempted to pull Valentine’s hand away from her face but resisted the desire. She wanted to be surprised now, and it seemed the blindfold was necessary.

What didn’t they want her to see?

Venturi stepped close to her and his scent was different to what she had expected. It was laced with traces of cinnamon and other delicious smelling spices, and blood. She sniffed.

“Hungry as always,” Valentine murmured into her ear and she shivered as his hand swept across her stomach and he began to undo the buttons on her thick long black coat. “Venturi.”

The scent of spicy blood grew stronger and a warm glass touched her lips.

“Open for me,” Venturi husked and Prophecy moaned, doing as he instructed. Blood trickled into her mouth, sweet and spicy, aromatic. She swallowed and he removed the glass. “You spilled a little.”

She wasn’t surprised. She couldn’t see what she was doing. Technically, he had spilled a little.

Prophecy gasped when his tongue swept over her lip, jolting against Valentine as he undid the last of the coat buttons, and then groaned when Venturi kissed her, their tongues tangling all too briefly before he pulled away.

He tasted like the spicy blood too.

“What was that?” She frowned when a hint of alcohol came through the blood.

“Your clue,” Valentine said and playfully nipped at her throat. Clearly he had been indulging in the blood, alcohol and spice drink they had made too. Not only had he allowed Venturi to kiss her without even the slightest hint of anger coming through the bond they shared as a mated couple, but he was nuzzling her throat and slowly peppering it with kisses that melted her and made it hard to think.

A clue?

Alcohol. Spice. She discounted the blood as that was obviously a vampire addition to the recipe.

Prophecy raised an eyebrow. “Mulled blood?”

Both eyebrows rose and she grinned.

“I think she has it.” Venturi peeled her coat off her shoulders, his deep voice full of amusement.

They hadn’t.

Valentine kissed her cheek and then slowly drew his hand away from her eyes. She immediately opened them and they fell on a huge brightly decorated Christmas tree in the corner of her bedroom. The silver star at the top almost touched the high ceiling and twinkling coloured lights shone amongst the dark branches. Tinsel and baubles, and everything she had ever seen in television adverts, windows of houses in Prague and in the city centre, covered the tree. A shiver danced down her spine.

Valentine came out from behind her to stand beside Venturi, both men watching her closely for her reaction, a hint of male pride on their faces. They had gone to so much effort for her. She knew in her heart that they had bought the tree and decorated it themselves, or at least Valentine had in Venturi’s absence. Something told her Venturi had played his part by supplying the mulled blood.

Prophecy didn’t know what to say. She had never thought either of them would do such a thing for her. Whenever the festive season came around, both made their dislike of it clear to her, picking apart the religious side of it as well as the humans’ need to decorate everything so garishly. That they had put aside their own feelings about the season to do this for her touched her deeply.

Valentine’s green eyes sparkled at her with love, his bowed lips curved into a slight smile. Venturi raised his glass of mulled blood in a salute to her, his blue eyes bright as he grinned. What a pair they made. Both of them hated all things human yet they had put together her own personal Christmas so she could experience it for her first time.

If she had ever desired proof of their love for her, this was it. Neither of them would do something like this for anyone other than her, and it made her smile and heated her through. Her gaze roamed back to the tree and then down to the base. There were bright coloured boxes with huge bows beneath the branches, clustered around the trunk. They couldn’t all be for her. Could they?

She wanted to rush to them and see if they were but looked back at Valentine and Venturi instead. Both men took her breath away.

She hadn’t noticed before, had been too caught up in the tree and looking at the love in their eyes, but they were both topless, their beautiful honed bodies on display, and both sported a scarlet ribbon tied in a bow around their necks.

“Are you for me?” she said with a smile.

“All for you.” Valentine pulled his hand out from behind his back and she frowned at the green leafy bouquet in his fingers, spotted with fat white berries. He approached her slowly, his body shifting sensually with each step, igniting a desire to touch him and setting her blood aflame. He raised the bouquet above him and smiled. “I believe you have to kiss me now.”

She did?

Prophecy had seen the leafy stuff before in shop windows and on doorframes. She didn’t know what it did.

“It is mistletoe. If you are beneath it, you must kiss,” Venturi said and a slow smile spread across her face.

She stepped up to Valentine, placed her hands against his bare chest to steady herself, and tiptoed. He dipped his head, captured her lips with his own, and softly kissed her, stealing her breath and melting her heart. She had missed him so much. She no longer cared about the presents beneath the tree. The best present was here in her arms, kissing her.

He drew back and her gaze slid to Venturi. He sipped his mulled blood. Perhaps there was a present she wanted.

She took the mistletoe from Valentine, her fingers brushing his and eliciting a sigh from him. He nodded his approval when she met his gaze and she crooked a finger at Venturi. He didn’t hesitate. He set his blood down on a side table and prowled across the room to her. Valentine stepped up behind her, slipped his arm around her waist and held her, kissing her shoulder and throat as Venturi reached her. She twirled the mistletoe in her fingers and smiled up into his blue eyes.

Venturi raked his dirty blond overlong hair back, sucked in a sharp breath, and then swooped on her lips. She moaned and closed her eyes, savouring the feel of his mouth on hers. They hadn’t kissed the whole time they had been together in Romania. Without Valentine present to give his permission, they’d had to live with each other without being able to touch or kiss. It had been torture.

The kiss ended too soon but she didn’t mind. She stood wedged between her lover and her mate, enjoying the feel of them against her and the thoughts racing through her mind, images of things to come. She would insist that Venturi stay a while, and that Valentine did too. She wanted to savour her presents and take her time enjoying them.

Starting right now.

Prophecy slipped free of both men, leaving them facing each other, and grinned as she tiptoed and held the mistletoe above them.

They both growled.

“I thought it was tradition?” She didn’t back down. Wouldn’t. Not this time.

Neither man looked as though they were going to do as that tradition dictated, and then Venturi looked at Valentine, drew in several deep breaths as though he was psyching himself up, and grabbed him, placing both of his hands against Valentine’s cheeks. Before Valentine’s growl had even started to leave his mouth, Venturi’s lips were against his, cutting it off.

Prophecy’s eyes widened and her blood turned to liquid fire in her veins.

Devil.

Valentine remained rigid at first, every muscle of his bare torso tensed and taut, radiating anger and danger, and then he swallowed and moved his lips against Venturi’s in the most restrained kiss she had ever seen. Their mouths barely brushed, lips opening and parting, and their eyes slowly closed.

The hottest kiss she had ever seen.

She suddenly realised how either man felt when she kissed the other.

Jealous.

She wanted in on that kiss.

Prophecy tossed the mistletoe aside, threw her arms around both of their necks and pressed her lips against theirs. Valentine instantly broke away, his mouth claiming hers instead, and Venturi nuzzled her neck and nipped at it between heated hungry kisses.

She tangled her fingers in their hair at first and then the bows around their necks, lost in the moment as she surrendered to desire, pouring out her passion into her kiss with Valentine and savouring the feel of Venturi’s lips on her throat.

She couldn’t decide which of her presents to unwrap first.

A wicked smile curved her lips and she used her magic to teleport them all onto the bed.

Her fingers curled in the bows on both men’s necks.

She would just have to unwrap them both at the same time.

Together, they would have themselves a very merry little Christmas.

All twelve days of it.

This story was based on:

Prophecy Trilogy (Vampires Realm Books 1-3)

A vampire unlike any other, Prophecy lives life in the dark until the night she encounters a sensual dark-haired vampire who is both her enemy and the man who will change her world forever.

A loyal hunter for the Aurorea bloodline, Valentine is bound by duty to report her as the vampire of the prophecy, but he cannot shake the vision of them he saw in her blood. Torn between duty and desire, and determined to uncover the truth at any cost, Valentine goes against his order to execute her and kidnaps the beautiful Caelestis female instead.

Thrust into a terrifying world where the seven vampire bloodlines and the Law Keepers are hunting her and her only hope for survival is Valentine, Prophecy battles her temptation to surrender to her forbidden attraction to him as she races to discover the true depth of her incredible powers.

As they fight to survive the mounting threat of a mysterious enemy bent on tearing them apart and unleashing Hell on earth, they succumb to the desires of their hearts and discover that love makes them stronger, but with danger surrounding them, death on their heels, and a dark evil on the rise, will they be strong enough to avert an apocalypse and fulfil Prophecy’s extraordinary destiny?

The Prophecy Trilogy is a thrilling story of forbidden love that will draw you into a dark, exhilarating world of vampires, werewolves, magic and the war to end all wars. Filled with twists, turns, unforgettable characters and undeniable passion, it will take hold of you, set your heart racing, and not let you go even after the last page.

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Ebook available from:

Amazon Kindle
Amazon Kindle UK
Amazon Kindle Germany
Amazon Kindle Canada
Amazon Kindle Australia
Apple iBookstore US
Apple iBookstore UK
Apple iBookstore Australia
Apple iBookstore Canada
Apple iBookstore New Zealand
Barnes and Noble
Kobo Books
Google Play

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Published on December 27, 2017 05:27

December 26, 2017

Unchained by a Forbidden Love (Eternal Mates Book 15) chapter three plus amazing giveaway!

I’m celebrating the release of Fuery and Shaia’s book in my Eternal Mates paranormal romance series with an amazing giveaway plus sharing the first four chapters here at my blog. Read on for chapter three, and details of the awesome giveaway you can enter!

UNCHAINED BY A FORBIDDEN LOVE, book 15 in the series, is out now. It’s time to catch up with what has been happening in this world of dark elves, shifters, fae, demons and angels…

Unchained by a Forbidden Love (Eternal Mates Book 15)

Lost to the darkness, Fuery wages a daily war against the corruption that lives within him, constantly in danger of slipping into the black abyss and becoming the monster all elves fear. Work as an assassin gives him purpose, but what reason is there to go on when he killed the light of his life—his fated mate?

Shaia has spent forty-two centuries mourning her mate. Tired and worn down, she agrees to wed a male of her family’s choosing, following tradition that has always bound her as a female and hoping she will be able to gain just a little freedom in return. But as she resigns herself to being the mate of a male she could never love, fate places an old friend in her path—one who tells her that her lost love is alive.

Will Shaia find the courage to break with tradition and leave the elf kingdom in search of her mate? And as a ray of light pierces his soul again, can Fuery find the strength to win his battle against the darkness or will it devour him and that light of their forbidden love forever?

Eirwyn droned on about something. Shaia tried to pay attention to him as she re-tied her long wavy black hair with trembling fingers, gathering the twin braids that hung from near her temples and joining them in the silver clasp at the back of her head.

It became impossible as they entered the main semi-circular marketplace of the village and she whirled back through time, the mixture of two-storey thatched and tiled detached grey stone buildings that lined the curve of the square changing around her to grow sparser and the people transforming into those who had occupied the market that fateful day almost four thousand three hundred years ago.

The light of the portal beat down on her, making her dark blue dress uncomfortably hot. She tugged at the tight bronze metal corset as best she could while clinging to the heavy wicker basket she held tucked in her left arm. The fruits and vegetables she had purchased with her mother jostled back and forth, threatening to leap over the edge.

“Shaia,” her mother called and she looked her way, nodded to let her know she was coming and hurried after her as she bustled down the lane in the busy market, disappearing into the throng as she moved from stall to stall.

The noise of the people rose around her, growing more animated, and snagging her attention.

She glanced up from wrestling with her dress as she walked, wanting to see what had caused the commotion.

A tall male dressed in the figure-hugging black uniform of the army filled her vision and she barely had time to gasp before he turned and collided with her, knocking the basket from her arms and sending its contents spilling across the dirt. She staggered backwards, the force of him slamming into her sending her off balance.

Her back hit a passing male before she could fall and the male who had knocked her muttered an apology and moved on with the rest of his group, laughing and pushing at each other as they weaved through the crowded lane. The male behind her righted her, grumbling about her being clumsy, and walked away without as much as a backward glance.

Shaia huffed, crouched and began picking up her scattered belongings before the people visiting the market began stepping on them. The last thing she needed was her mother discovering what had happened and finding her at fault. Things had been strained at home, her family’s desire for her to make a good match wearing her down and putting her in a foul mood.

She was only two hundred. Who found the one they would spend the rest of their life with at such a tender age?

A shadow came over her and she covered her eyes with her right hand and looked up at the owner of it.

A male loomed before her, darkly handsome, his face set in a scowl and strands of his long black hair dancing in the breeze to caress his cheeks.

He smoothed it back into the ponytail with a huff and she half expected him to demand she move out of his way.

Shock rippled through her when he directed the full force of his anger over her head. His violet eyes were bright with it as his pointed ears flared back, and then he crouched in front of her and began helping her with her fruits and vegetables. She stared at him as he worked, carefully plucking each fallen item from the dirt, inspecting it for marks and dusting off the earth, and then placing it gently into her basket.

“Are you hurt?” he said, and her insides trembled, unfamiliar heat traveling along her limbs and curling in her chest as his deep voice sounded in her ears.

He lifted his violet eyes to meet hers and all the anger that had been in them was gone, drifted away like storm clouds in summer, leaving only warm light behind.

She couldn’t find her voice to answer him.

He had stolen it together with her breath.

Gods.

He was gorgeous.

The banked heat simmering in his eyes seemed to echo the burning in her veins, a strange and unsettling sensation that lit her up and had the world around her falling away, leaving only the male before her. She stared at him, shaken by the force of the new feelings rushing through her, sensations that skittered over her skin and stirred her soul, awoke something inside her that had her growing increasingly aware of him as more than a person.

She grew aware of him as a male.

Raw. Masculine. Powerful. Handsome. Everything about him stoked the flames licking through her, had her breath coming faster as her pulse accelerated, drumming in her ears.

That heat in his eyes began to blaze.

Someone caught her arm and pulled her onto her feet, jerking her out of the spell he had placed her under and bringing the world crashing back down around her. She heard her mother speak, felt she should look at her but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the male.

He took hold of her basket, his face fixed in a placid expression that concealed whatever he was feeling, and rose to his full height so he towered over her again. He looked down at the basket, and then her, and for an agonising moment she thought he would speak with her again, but then he held it out to her.

She took it in trembling hands, still fighting to find her voice to tell him that she was fine. Better than fine. She felt wonderful.

Her mother pulled her away, into the crowd, and she glanced back over her shoulder to find the male watching her. Her eyes widened. A uniform. He wore the same clothes as the soldiers who had bumped her.

Disappointment flooded her, the light and airy feeling transforming into a cold sort of darkness as she realised he wasn’t a resident of the village or any of those that surrounded it. He was a soldier, and he would pass through her small world and out of her life before she could even get to know him.

“Cursed soldiers. I do not see why we must entertain them by allowing them to stay near the village.” Her mother’s voice broke into the darkness, bringing light back into her heart, and hope welled inside her.

Hope that she would see him again, even when she knew her family would never approve of the match.

She drifted home with her mother, and kept on drifting, through days and the nights that followed, her concentration poor as the male played on her mind and a desire to venture into the village plagued her, tugging her towards it in the hope she would see him again.

Five days after their fateful meeting in the village, Shaia found herself sitting on a boulder on the bank of the stream struggling to focus on her task of washing clothes for her family.

One of the other maidens of the village spoke, but Shaia didn’t listen to her as she stared across the broad swath of shallow water that rippled over the stony riverbed.

At the camp there.

Soldiers came and went from the round white tents, the volume of their voices rising and falling as they talked or teased each other. Sometimes, one would call across to her and her companions. The first time it had happened, one of the more delicate females had almost fainted and another had spouted vile things about how the males would snatch them and hurt them, almost causing a third to join the first in having a fainting fit.

Shaia took it all in her stride, unafraid of the males as they called or whistled, able to see they were simply flirting with them and were harmless. None of them had even set foot in the water. She presumed it marked a boundary, and they had orders to remain in the camp.

The males nearest the bank fell silent as a taller male passed through, his black uniform bearing a regal crest. A commander. She half expected him to make them go back to work, but he rolled his eyes and moved on, obviously uninterested in their exploits.

Were the soldiers here for rest?

Shaia scrubbed the last item of clothing on the ribbed piece of wood she had wedged against some rocks in the bottom of the stream, her focus on the camp more than what she was doing. Her knuckles were sore from repeatedly being banged against the ridges and she was sure she had broken more than one nail, but she didn’t care. Her eyes scanned the tents and the faces of the males as they moved around.

The hope that had burst to life inside her when she had spotted the camp on the banks of the stream began to wane as she finished with the undershirt and rang it out before setting it down in her basket with her other clothes.

She unrolled the sleeves of her light green blouse and tied them at her wrists, rose to her feet and stepped out onto the pebbled bank, the damp hem of her skirt sticking to her ankles as she moved. The light warmed her bare feet, chasing the chill of the stream from them.

“Take the longer route, Shaia. You must avoid the soldiers.” The youngest daughter of a noble family who lived close to hers looked terrified as she said that, as if she was picturing horrible things happening to her.

Shaia sighed and nodded to her, her older sister and the two other maidens, and turned away, heading along the bank rather than following the worn footpath towards the village. She had nothing to fear from the males.

And she hadn’t seen him yet.

She held the heavy wicker basket in both hands, stumbling at times as her bare feet snagged on a rock or she stubbed her toe. She tried to keep her eyes away from the camp, but they disobeyed her and kept drifting back, heeding her heart and doing its bidding.

Was he not at the camp?

She followed a curve in the stream and her step faltered as a new area of the camp came into view.

Males sparred in a clearing, breathtaking as they battled with weapons or barehanded, a startling display of masculinity and strength that had her heart pounding in response.

She had never seen males fighting before.

Her eyes locked on the one who had caught her attention, stealing all of her focus away from the world and narrowing it down to only him.

He fought gracefully, bare feet kicking up dust into the thick hot air as he dodged and blocked each attack the other two males made with their blades, his bare hands swiftly knocking the sword arms of his foes, pushing their attack off course.

She gasped as he dropped to his knees and slammed his right hand up against the arm of the shorter male, stopping his blade at the last second, and his head slowly swivelled towards her.

Gods, he was breathtaking.

“Shaia?” A male voice penetrated her thoughts, shaking her hold on the past.

She tried to keep her grip on it but it began to slip, and despite her fierce struggle to stay in those days where the world had felt bright and beautiful, she came back to one that was dark and dreary.

Or one that had felt dark and dreary until only moments ago, until a ray of light had pierced the veil of darkness and brought warmth and hope back into her heart.

“Are you even listening to me?” Eirwyn snapped and she almost admitted that she wasn’t, that he bored her and she hated him, and she would wish for him to go to Hell if they weren’t already there.

Perhaps she could wish him into a more dangerous part of Hell.

“I am tired,” she whispered and pressed her hand to her forehead, hoping to make him believe her.

He thought her a feeble thing, and if playing on that would keep him from suspecting she had been miles away, centuries ago and reliving a better time of her life, then she would do it. She had no qualms about it either.

Her mind attempted to delve back in time again, but Eirwyn huffed and kept her with him, holding her in the present as he moved closer to her and spoke.

“… Males in elevated positions above their standing speaking to me in such a disrespectful manner.”

Shaia frowned in his direction, for a moment seeing her mother on a night over four thousand years ago, one where she had said almost the same thing about another male.

The only male dear to her heart.

“Bleu is the aide of our prince,” she said without considering the consequences, “his top commander and a male who is respected by all.”

Eirwyn turned a scowl on her, his purple eyes darker than she had ever seen them and filled with a silent reprimand. “Something is wrong with you today. You have been… different… since seeing that male. What is he to you?”

“He is no one to me,” she said and his expression didn’t lighten.

If anything, it grew darker, as if he could read her thoughts and knew that the one Bleu had spoken of meant everything to her though.

Instinct made her move a few inches away from him, a trickle of fear running through her that shocked her. As an elf, she possessed keen instincts, ones that could often warn her of danger before it presented itself, saving her from coming to harm.

Only once in her lifetime had she felt such an urge to move away from a male though, and then that male had meant to harm her, had ambushed and intended to rob her on the path between her home and the village one evening.

Did Eirwyn mean to harm her?

She steeled herself and steadied her heart. He wasn’t like that, had never shown any sign of being the sort of male who would strike a female or even a male. She was just jittery because of everything that had happened and on edge because she feared he would discover why she had suddenly grown distant and would be upset enough that he informed her parents.

Her parents would probably respond by shutting her in her room for months on end and stopping her from being able to leave.

They had reacted that way after she had wandered to the borders of the free realm to find Fuery forty-two centuries ago, hiring a sorceress to place a barrier around her rooms that would prevent her from teleporting out of them.

At the time, she had been too distraught to think about leaving again.

This time, it would drive her mad.

She made polite conversation, not hearing her own words as her mind churned, formulating a plan that had her heart beating harder, a trickle of fear running through her veins but excitement too, mingled with hope that gave her courage and strength to do what she had wanted to for over four thousand years.

She was going to cross the border.

Because she needed to find Fuery.

She needed to see with her own eyes that he was alive.

Ebook available from:

Amazon Kindle
Amazon Kindle UK
Amazon Kindle Germany
Amazon Kindle Canada
Amazon Kindle Australia
Apple iBookstore US
Apple iBookstore UK
Apple iBookstore Australia
Apple iBookstore Canada
Apple iBookstore New Zealand
Barnes and Noble
Kobo Books
Google Play

Paperback available from:

Amazon.com
Amazon.co.uk

Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince (Only 99c at all retailers!)

Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King

Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince

Book 4: Hunted by a Jaguar

Book 5: Craved by an Alpha

Book 6: Bitten by a Hellcat

Book 7: Taken by a Dragon

Book 8: Marked by an Assassin

Book 9: Possessed by a Dark Warrior

Book 10: Awakened by a Demoness

Book 11: Haunted by the King of Death

Book 12: Turned by a Tiger

Book 13: Tamed by a Tiger

Book 14: Treasured by a Tiger

Book 15: Unchained by a Forbidden Love

View more on Felicity Heaton's website »

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Published on December 26, 2017 05:11

December 23, 2017

Unchained by a Forbidden Love (Eternal Mates Book 15) chapter two plus fantastic giveaway!

I’m celebrating the release of Fuery and Shaia’s book in my Eternal Mates paranormal romance series with an amazing giveaway plus sharing the first four chapters here at my blog. Read on for chapter two, and details of the awesome giveaway you can enter!

UNCHAINED BY A FORBIDDEN LOVE, book 15 in the series, is out now. It’s time to catch up with what has been happening in this world of dark elves, shifters, fae, demons and angels…

Unchained by a Forbidden Love (Eternal Mates Book 15)

Shaia despised having to walk with the male beside her, hated the way he treated her as if she was fragile and liable to break. He never spoke to her as an equal, never entertained her when she tried to converse about things he believed she didn’t need to know about purely because she was a female.

It annoyed her.

Almost as much as the ridiculous outdated traditions of elf society that had bred those opinions into him.

But he was necessary.

She had put off her family for so long that they had finally reached the end of their tether and were determined to marry her off at last.

They had found a suitable male for her, had negotiated with him, and now it was time to seal the deal.

She cursed elf society.

It treated her like a possession or an asset.

Not a living, breathing thing with free will.

Shaia scoffed under her breath at that. Free will?

She looked around the rolling green landscape bathed in light, at the fields that lined the worn earth road, and the males who toiled in them. Males. Ahead, in the village that nestled between one of the hills and the broad stream, the stalls of the market and the mills would produce the same results.

Males.

Not a single female ran a store or a mill. Not a single female toiled in the fields to turn the earth or harvest the crops, restricted to tasks like sowing seeds that society thought fitted their more delicate constitutions.

Not a single female fought in the ranks of the elf army.

Her heart plummeted in her chest and she pushed away from thoughts of the legions, but she wasn’t quite quick enough to spare herself the pain that came whenever she thought of that noble duty or saw soldiers passing through the village.

She felt Eirwyn’s eyes on her as a vile shudder over her skin and glanced across at him. Concern lit his violet eyes. Concern she could almost fool herself was real. Perhaps she was misreading him again, mistaking frustration for concern. He often became annoyed with her whenever she fell silent, drifting along in her own world and captured by her own thoughts rather than talking with him about whatever dull topic he had chosen and believed suited her feeble female mind.

Males.

Gods, she wished she had the strength and courage to stand up, tell her family that she would never marry and she was going to leave this small world behind and search for a meaning in life in the greater one beyond the borders of the elf kingdom.

Borders that had been her cage for her entire life, one she had never quite been able to break free from despite her best efforts.

She had travelled the length and breadth of the kingdom, had visited every region but the one around the palace, but not once had she managed to muster the bravery to do something her family would view as unforgivable.

Something society would view as disgraceful, and akin to committing a damned crime even though males could do it freely and without consequence or scorn.

She had never crossed the border.

She had reached it once, had stared down from a high mountain peak into the valley beyond, knowing it was part of the First Realm of the demons. She had gone back and forth for hours, fighting with the idea of setting foot in it and breaking with convention, flouting the rules of her family and society.

In the end, she had lacked the courage to take that step.

Her family were all she had, and although their relationship was strained by the things they had done, the thought of them turning their backs on her because she had done something society would view as disrespectful towards them, and unladylike of her, hurt too much for her to dare go through with it.

Even when her heart longed to see what lay beyond the elf kingdom in those shadowy lands she had surveyed from the peak.

She stared into Eirwyn’s eyes, verging on speaking her mind and telling him that she hated what he represented, she despised that she was going to willingly leave one cage to enter another. The black slashes of his eyebrows dipped low and his lips thinned, a flare of irritation lighting his eyes as he slowed to a halt.

Could he see everything she wanted to tell him in her eyes? Could he see into her heart and see that it would never be his?

It belonged to another.

Gods damn convention and the slow pace of her species.

Other species in Hell had moved forward, their females given freedom and power, and a will of their own.

Why couldn’t the elves move at that same pace?

Had anything really changed in the last forty-five centuries? The village was the same. The people in it hadn’t changed. Even the larger towns had barely progressed. Her world was stagnant. Boring. She longed to shake things up, to do something that would alter her cage or perhaps break free of it.

Gods, she longed for that.

She had tasted true freedom once, so many centuries ago. It still felt like yesterday to her at times, when she allowed herself to think back to those halcyon days and managed to feel warmth from remembering them, hope and light, not cold and pain.

And darkness.

Four thousand five hundred years had passed since her birth, and what had truly changed in that time? Society had barely shuffled forwards a few steps. Females were growing stronger, beginning to gain more power and more respect, but it had taken her entire lifetime for it to happen and such power and respect was limited to the larger towns. In the villages, females were still treated like chattel, given to the male who offered the best payment to her family.

In her case, Eirwyn had offered both the highest bid and been the most persistent of her suitors.

Her family had caught her at a low point, when she had been depressed from the long months she had passed alone at her small home far from the village and her feet had carried her back to her family’s house, a need to speak with others and see the faces of her kin dragging her back to them.

She had been weak, tired from fighting with them when she wanted to spend time with them in peace and happiness, wanted to relive the days that had come before she had matured and they had started looking for a suitor for her, an eligible male that filled their every need and desire.

She had regretted agreeing to it just seconds after the words had left her lips, but Eirwyn had been swift to swoop on her and announce their future marriage to the entire village, and now the deed was done.

She would marry him, and she would live with him.

But she would never love him.

She stifled another sigh and forced a smile for him. He was handsome enough, with his regal features and his long black hair tied into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, allowed to flow down his back to blend with his tailored black tunic that reached his knees and accentuated his fine figure, but she felt nothing for him.

Whenever she looked at him, she saw another. She saw a male who had lit a fire inside her, a spark that had burned in her heart and had given her strength, and more than ever she wanted to find the courage to stand on her own two feet and push back against tradition to claim the life she wanted for herself.

He began walking again, talking about the crops this year, as if he played any part in their success. He owned land, paid males to work it, and profited off their success.

Coin was the one thing she lacked, and the one thing it was impossible for her to come by without her parents, or a male. Eirwyn would at least provide that for her she supposed. No more scrounging for seed to grow her own vegetables and fruit, or relying on her parents to send her an allowance.

Hopefully, Eirwyn would allow her to continue working with nature in his garden, and she could lose herself in it for hours, filling her day with work and avoiding him as much as possible.

Shaia stared off into the distance where the windmills stood proud on top of several of the hills above the village, their blades rotating slowly in the gentle breeze that stirred the wheat fields surrounding them.

Her thoughts drifted as her eyes settled on one windmill in particular, set away from the village and high on a hill above the others.

She had met the son of that family several times in her youth, could remember how proud his family had been when he had joined the legions and had been chosen to serve under Prince Vail, and how relieved they had been when he had survived the battle near the borders of the free realm, a war begun by that prince when he had turned on his own men.

At the time, Shaia had cursed them, had wished it had been another male who had returned from that brutal battle and not their son.

The loss of that male, and the darkness of her desire for him to have survived and their son to have died instead, had propelled her into a deep depression that had consumed her for years, had clouded her heart and her mind, and had taken her decades to escape.

It was a depression that still consumed her from time to time.

“Shaia?” Eirwyn’s bass voice penetrated her thoughts and she pulled herself away from her past and the pain that lived there and back to him. “You seem out of sorts today. Shall we not go back?”

She shook her head. “The walk will do me good. It will lift my spirits.”

A lie, but one that came easily to her when the alternative was returning back to her family home while her parents were out. She didn’t want to be alone with Eirwyn and he would insist on remaining with her until her parents returned. It was better to be out in the open, surrounded by others, tasting what little freedom she had.

What she really wanted was to convince him to walk the hills with her, or visit the stream so she could wade in its crisp waters and cool down, escaping the blistering heat of summer. Eirwyn would refuse though. He had made it clear that he thought it unladylike of her to want to do such things, and that her constitution would suffer.

She scoffed under her breath at that.

Females weren’t as delicate as he believed.

Her eyes drifted back to the mill in the distance again. That family had a daughter too, one younger than she was and a female who was often the subject of rumours in the village. Shaia loved to hear the latest tales of her, pretended to be affronted and shocked, and even dismayed by the things she heard, while being envious and wishing she were in Iolanthe’s boots.

Iolanthe roamed Hell, travelled far and wide, and even into the mortal realm at times, an independent female bent on doing things her way.

A strong female.

One who didn’t allow anyone to stand in her way.

It inspired her, kept that fire burning inside her, but the flames fanned by whatever latest tale she heard soon died back, leaving only a feeble spark behind, one quickly constrained again and subdued.

Eirwyn gestured towards the hills on the other side of the stream, to the trees that blanketed several of the slopes, and she nodded and smiled, did her best to be congenial and please him.

Her family had caught her at a low point when she had come to visit them, had convinced her that if she married, she might be happy again.

She knew it was just another cage, but she was tired, and everything seemed so bleak now. Her life no longer had any meaning. What reason did she have to go on existing?

Gods, she hated how easily she slipped into these dark moments that felt as if they were going to consume her, her will stripped from her and a desperate need for company filling her, as if that would chase the cold emptiness from her heart.

It was after a particularly brutal bout of depression, when she had still lived at home with her family, that her parents had called in a doctor from the nearest town to tend to her.

Depression was a cage, but it had given her some freedom.

The doctor had spoken with her parents, stating that she needed a hobby or some space to help ease her mood. When her parents had asked her what she wanted, she had spoken from her heart, requesting that she be allowed a small home of her own to run, away from the village.

Her parents had been reluctant, but had eventually agreed when the doctor had pressed them. Her new home had lifted her spirits, and had given her a taste of freedom, allowing her to come and go as she pleased. She had buried herself in her garden, the long days flying past as she toiled from the moment it grew light until it became too dark to see.

But the loneliness, the solitude, got to her at times, especially during the longer winter nights, and her thoughts always turned to her past, and a time when her heart had been full and overflowing.

Then, the emptiness rose inside her to consume her again.

Driving her back home in an attempt to fill it.

“Shaia?” A male voice curled around her and she frowned and looked around as they entered the fringes of the village, seeking the source of it.

None of the males coming and going along the avenues between the thatched houses were familiar to her.

“Do you know that male?” Eirwyn said and she glanced up at him, catching him scowling in the direction of the village square as he smoothed his ponytail, his actions clipped and reeking of irritation.

Shaia looked there.

A handsome male strode towards them along the broad road between the grey stone two-storey buildings, his fitted black tunic detailed with elegant pale green embroidery around the edges of the two long panels at the front that reached his knees, the matching ones at the back, and around the cuffs. Tight black trousers hugged his lean muscular legs, tucked into polished black knee-high riding boots. Their silver clasps reflected the light, dazzling her as much as his wide smile and bright violet eyes.

Eirwyn pulled a face beside her, and she could understand why. While his own tunic and trousers were fine and tailored for him, they couldn’t compare to the ones the male wore.

They bore symbols only those high in the court of Prince Loren could wear.

The male’s smile became a grin and he waved, glanced over his shoulder and said something to someone behind him, and then picked up pace, heading towards Shaia.

She blinked as she finally recognised him.

The miller’s son.

The last time she had seen Bleu, he had been a scrawny lad and had come home to the village to announce to his parents that he had been given the position of commander. His family had held a celebration in his honour, and Shaia had been invited, but had refused. The thought of seeing him in the finery of a commander and attending the celebration had been too much for her, and she had spiralled back into a depression.

Bleu had visited her the day after, and had apologised. He hadn’t been the one to send the invitations to the entire village. She had been grateful when he had told her he wouldn’t have invited her if he had and that he understood, and hoped it hadn’t hurt her too deeply.

She had lied then too, telling him that it hadn’t, when it had cut her deeper than any blade could have.

She moved forwards to meet him, pulling herself away from the past and managing to smile for him. This time, it felt genuine, warming her and chasing away some of the cold that seemed a permanent part of her now.

Her step faltered when a tall, beautiful female stepped out from behind Bleu, her violet-to-white hair matching her striking eyes. Those eyes darted around, taking everything in, not seeming to notice the way the males in the village looked at her, a mixture of admiration and fear in their eyes.

Shaia could understand their shock. It rippled through her too.

She had never seen a female dressed this way before.

Violet leather trousers hugged her long legs, paired with matching boots, and a white leather corset fitted snug to her torso, revealing a strip of toned stomach and a startling amount of cleavage.

Bleu glanced back at the female again, and then did the most shocking thing of all.

He snarled and flashed fangs at the males who were looking at the female, his pointed ears flaring back against his wild blue-black hair, and snapped in their native tongue, “Get your fucking eyes off my mate.”

The males bolted, leaving the female looking around her with a confused crinkle to her brow.

“Bleu?” the female whispered, her incredible eyes landing on him, and continued in the mortal tongue, “I said it was not wise for me to dress in my usual manner.”

“And I said I like you that way and people will deal with it. You don’t have to be something you’re not.” He caught the female’s wrist and tugged her into his arms, banding them around her in a way that caused a fierce sting in Shaia’s heart. “I love you just the way you are.”

The female blushed and pushed against Bleu’s shoulders. “You are making a scene.”

He shrugged and refused to release her. “Let them all stare. They’re just jealous.”

“That they might be, but I believe you are being rude to the elf female and her male looks displeased.”

Shaia risked a glance at Eirwyn. He looked positively aghast.

She wished she couldn’t understand why, because she wanted what Bleu and this female shared to be the accepted way of things, that such public displays of affection between a male and a female were not a faux pas or frowned upon by society.

That love in all its forms could be celebrated not scorned.

Bleu nuzzled the female’s neck and then drew back, and Shaia ached as she saw the marks on the female’s throat, twin scars that confirmed what Bleu had said. This female was his mate.

“I barely recognised you,” Shaia said, hoping to pull Bleu away from his female, because Eirwyn was rapidly losing patience and she feared he would pull her away if Bleu didn’t speak soon.

She wanted to know why Bleu had called out to her, and wanted to know more about the female, because she wasn’t elf. She was something else. Something strong, and powerful, and independent.

Bleu finally pulled himself away from the female, but kept his arm locked tightly around her waist, pinning her against his side in a way that sparked envy in Shaia.

She had been held like that once.

Eirwyn placed his hand against the small of her back and a weight instantly descended on her, pressing down on her heart and making her want to twist free of his touch. While Bleu’s grip on his female was possessive, it was born of love and a need of his female, a desire to be in contact with her at all times.

Eirwyn’s touch was possession of another nature, a show of dominance over her, marking her as belonging to him.

Bleu’s violet eyes narrowed on Eirwyn and he was silent for the longest time before he said, “I know your brother… Leif. He serves in my legion. I served your father, Commander Andon, once too. It was an honour.”

“Your legion?” Eirwyn’s tone held a trace of venom and a slight note of disbelief, and she had the sinking feeling that things were about to turn dire.

Before he could offend Bleu, Shaia stepped forwards and captured his focus. “Bleu is a commander, serving Prince Loren directly.”

Eirwyn cast a glance over Bleu from head to toe and back again, and she was surprised he didn’t curl his lip. “The same Bleu who was born to the mill on the outskirts of the village?”

“And now I see where Leif gets his lovely temperament and that lofty air. It clearly runs in the blood. I’ve had to beat it out of him a few times… so don’t think I won’t beat it out of you too.” Bleu held his free hand out to Eirwyn. “You may call me Commander Bleu.”

Shaia stifled the smile that wanted to curve her lips and schooled her features so Eirwyn wouldn’t see her amusement. If she had thought he had looked aghast before, she had been mistaken. Now he looked aghast, his mouth hanging open and face reflecting his astonishment.

It had probably been centuries since someone had spoken to him with so little respect.

It had probably been longer than that since someone had pulled rank on him.

Bleu’s steady gaze dropped to her as he lowered his hand. “Speaking of the legions… I have spent time with another male recently, one from the legions and one you know.”

Shaia frowned at him. She didn’t know anyone from the army but Bleu, and she barely knew him. She couldn’t think who he was talking about.

“You must be mistaken,” she said.

He cleared his throat and spoke very carefully, pressing each word home. “I believe you did know him once. I recall you telling me so in a town near the free realm. Do you not remember? It was forty-two centuries ago now so I can see why you have perhaps forgotten.”

Her heart started a slow, hard thump against her ribs. It wasn’t possible that he was talking about the one she thought he was, but she had only ventured near the free realm once in her lifetime, one reckless grief-fuelled moment four thousand two hundred years ago.

One moment where instinct had driven her there and she had come upon a battlefield, drenched in blood and scarred as deeply as her heart.

“Are you unwell?” Eirwyn’s hand against her back pressed deeper into her spine and she fought for air, for the words that would make him leave her alone and give her space to breathe.

She managed to shake her head and muttered, “I will be fine.”

Bleu watched her closely.

He was so different to how he had been that day, when she had gone looking for her love, desperate to find him alive even when she had known he was gone.

Bleu had told her then that the male she was looking for hadn’t come in with the wounded, that he was dead.

Now he was telling her that male was alive?

It wasn’t possible.

But what if it was true?

Gods, what if he really was alive and had been all this time?

Her throat closed as all her strength rushed out of her and she struggled to breathe, rasped as she sucked down shallow pants of air and her mind raced as quickly as her thundering heart.

She could feel Eirwyn’s eyes on her, intent and focused, and could sense he was close to making another attempt to smother her. She had to speak.

“Would you introduce me?” Her voice shook and she quickly gestured to the female beside Bleu when he cocked an eyebrow, making it clear she hadn’t meant the male he had spoken of but his mate.

Or had she?

Gods.

If she asked it of him, would he take her to that male?

Was it really possible that he was alive?

Everything in her screamed that it wasn’t and Bleu was mistaken. Her heart had shattered when her love had died. She had felt it.

“This is Taryn, my mate.” He beamed at her, male pride and a lot of love shining in his eyes.

“I am pleased to meet you, Taryn.” Shaia turned to Taryn and focused on her to subdue the questions racing through her mind and give herself a moment to breathe.

The contrast between them struck her again. Suddenly, her green elven dress felt as if it was swamping her frame, designed to hide her body rather than make the most of it. The long sleeves had always irritated her when other females were allowed to wear dresses without them, and the fact it dragged on the floor was often highly impractical, but it was another elf tradition, and one she would dearly love to shatter.

She tried to picture herself dressed as Taryn was, wearing tight leather and a revealing corset, and failed dismally.

Her own corset sat over her dress, made of wrought silver swirls that felt as if they were crushing her ribs and her breasts rather than supporting her, cinched down the sides with ribbons. Some elf females dared to wear dresses that were lower cut, and corsets that revealed more bosom.

Shaia had tried that once, and had been banished to her room in her parents’ home for one cycle of the moon.

She couldn’t openly dress as she wanted, but she often did her best to break with convention when she could.

She always wore sturdier and cheaper clothing at her small home away from the village, a basic blouse paired with a long skirt. She would roll up the sleeves and open the buttons down the front to allow air across her skin as she worked, and sometimes lazed in the private garden with her skirt hitched up to reveal her legs as she soaked in the sunlight.

“Where do you come from?” Shaia couldn’t even guess at what species Taryn was, but every instinct she possessed said that the female was strong, born of a breed with powers possibly more impressive than her elf mate’s ones.

Taryn pointed north-east, to a place beyond Eirwyn and the high peaks on the horizon. “The land of dragons.”

Shaia’s mouth dropped open and she snapped it shut before anyone noticed. A dragon? Incredible. She had a thousand questions she wanted to ask Taryn, but Eirwyn was watching her closely again, seemingly waiting for her to break with convention.

She smiled and forced herself to respond with just a single word. “Fascinating.”

It wasn’t against society’s rules for her to be fascinated by something. Eirwyn couldn’t pick her up on it.

The pang of envy returned as Bleu tugged Taryn a little closer, gazed at her through adoring eyes and looked as if he would die if she asked it of him. Taryn stood tall beside him, her head high, and violet-to-white eyes leaping around, taking everything in again. She glanced at Bleu and then away again, and began speaking in another tongue.

Bleu responded, a smile in his eyes as he spoke with his mate.

Gods.

Shaia’s heart beat painfully hard at the sight of them, at the way Bleu indulged her and the way Taryn stood at his side like an equal, commanding his attention and not held back by him. He didn’t stop her when she broke away from him, turning in a slow circle, her eyes leaping back to him from time to time as she spoke. She pointed towards the mills and he turned, carefully caught her hand and swung it towards one in particular.

The one his family owned.

Her eyes lit up and she said something else.

Bleu smiled again, spoke to her and then looked back at Shaia.

“She’s eager to meet the family. She’s convinced she won’t be accepted and until I get her there and she sees that they’ll love her just as much as I do, she’s going to keep slipping into the dragon tongue. Either that or she’ll get so wound up she’ll want to fly and people in these parts are jumpy enough about a stranger, let alone a dragon.” He grinned, as if he actually liked the idea of Taryn shifting and terrifying everyone.

Shaia found she liked the idea too.

It would certainly brighten her day, if not her life and this dull little village.

Eirwyn pressed harder against her spine. “We should be going.”

Panic lanced her and her eyes shot to Bleu, and she blurted, “How is our friend?”

Her voice shook as badly as her hands and she feared her intended would see it, but there was no way she could contain it, not when she was speaking about him.

Her lost love.

Bleu’s expression turned grave. “Unwell. The perils of being an assassin I suppose. It is dark work.”

That terrified her as much as it delighted her. Bleu was trying to tell her everything she needed to know in a coded manner. He was giving her clues that she could follow. The male she had thought had died was alive, but terribly sick if she was interpreting Bleu’s words correctly.

Tainted.

Gods, she needed to find him. She needed to scour every assassin’s guild until she was with him again and could pull him back from the darkness.

That desire shattered when Eirwyn spoke, reminding her that she wasn’t free to do as she pleased. “We must move on now.”

Shaia’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked to Bleu, desperate to learn more from him but aware that she couldn’t remain any longer. Her purple eyes shifted to the dragon beside him, and courage bloomed, strength that she thought had died long ago with her male.

“Thank you,” she said to Bleu as Eirwyn caught her wrist and pulled her away, her heart soaring as she looked back at him and his mate.

The dragon was free, powerful and independent. Bleu’s sister lived her life that way too.

All it took was courage.

She could be independent too.

She could find the male she had thought she had lost.

She could find her mate.

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Published on December 23, 2017 05:10

December 22, 2017

FREE Holiday Paranormal Romance Short – An Elf for the Holidays!

First up, I’m sharing a seasonal scene based on KISSED BY A DARK PRINCE in my Eternal Mates paranormal romance series!

An Elf for the Holidays

Loren navigated the busy pedestrian street, curling his lip at any mortal who bumped him and barely stifling the growl that rumbled up his throat and his desire to flash fangs at them. Beneath the thick woollen hat covering his blue-black hair, his ears were pointed, a sign of his distress he preferred to keep hidden from the male escorting him on this mission.

Bleu, his second in command, muttered dark things in the elf tongue into the thick black scarf wrapped around his neck and shielding the lower half of his face. Loren walked hunched up like him, his hands jammed into his matching black heavy wool coat to keep the biting chill off his skin. Bleu had no such path open to him. He had foolishly insisted on carrying all of Loren’s shopping bags, an act he evidently now regretted. His mood was degenerating faster with each passing second and Loren felt sure it was only a matter of time before his friend snapped and threatened any one of the jovial human shoppers bustling around them.

Colourful decorations illuminated Loren’s path, hanging between the buildings of the shopping street in the heart of London. Bright against the inky sky. They caught Loren’s attention, distracting him as his blue gaze studied the strange choice of creature and tried to make sense of them. They were a large number of enormous robins. He was familiar with the bird, but uncertain why mortals had chosen it to symbolise their religious holiday they called Christmas.

Olivia, his beautiful human mate, had attempted to explain to him the importance of the holiday, but the more she had told him, the more it had sounded less like something religious and more like something focused on family and the pleasure of giving and receiving presents. She had turned solemn after a short period of discussing it with him and reflecting on the Christmases she had shared with her brother in the past in an attempt to explain it to him, and why she loved this time of year. Neither of them enjoyed speaking of their brother. She had lost hers many years ago. He was still searching for his, trying to track him across the mortal world and Hell before he harmed himself or others.

The discussion with Olivia had given him insight into her, and he had decided then that this festive season and the giving of presents was important to her. He had silently vowed that he would give her a Christmas that she would remember. His eternal mate deserved no less. She had given him joy, love, and a future no longer filled with darkness but flooded with light and warmth. He wanted, needed, to give something back to her and show her that she was important to him.

When he had approached her friend Sable about the objective of his mission, the demon huntress had told him to get Olivia presents. He had probed in an attempt to discover what presents his little female would prefer, but Sable had been unable to offer any suggestions and had merely told him to ‘go with your gut’.

Loren had turned to Bleu.

Bleu had suggested he ask Olivia.

Loren still shook his head at that. His second in command spent hours in the company of mortal females when the urge struck him, yet he had failed to acquire any knowledge on female likes and dislikes.

A mortal bumped against him, knocking him back a step.

“Tourists,” the female muttered and stormed onwards.

Loren’s gaze tracked her. Bleu growled beside him and took a step forwards, in the direction of the woman.

Loren caught his arm and held him back. “Calm yourself, Bleu. I was not looking where I was going.”

“My prince?” Bleu said and looked back at him, a scowl darkening his features. “I grow tired of these impudent creatures.”

He could sense Bleu’s unease and irritation, and knew most of it stemmed from the fact they had spent long hours shopping. He had bought Olivia everything from a scarf to jewels, and household items he knew that she liked but lacked when she stayed with him in his castle.

Bleu’s irritation only increased when a young child pointed at him.

“Elf.”

Bleu turned his scowl on the tiny blond boy swaddled in thick colourful clothes. The boy’s mother attempted to pull her child away but he stood firm, his finger as unwavering as his broad smile.

“Mummy, there’s an elf.”

Loren looked across at his second in command and sighed when he spotted what had drawn attention to him. Bleu’s ears had changed, growing pointed, the tips showing through the wild blue-black strands of his hair. He cleared his throat and gave Bleu a pointed look when he looked as if he was considering scaring the child away.

Olivia had been poking fun at him about Christmas elves ever since she had told him about all the traditions and stories of this festive season and had realised that he was an elf too. She had even taken to calling him her ‘little helper’ and had threatened to find him something green to wear. She knew more than anyone that there was a vast difference between his kind and the ones mortals had made up. For a start, he was certain that the elves belonging to this time of year did not drink blood, fight wars with or against demons, or possess the ability to teleport and other psychic gifts.

The boy showed no fear as he dragged his mother towards him. More humans had stopped to stare too. It was too late for Bleu to change his ears back without revealing that they weren’t fake ones procured as a festive joke. The dark elf council would have both their heads if they revealed that elves were in fact very real, very dangerous and residing in their own realm in Hell, and that he was the prince and leader of that species.

“Do you know Santa Claus?” The boy beamed up at Bleu, a hopeful look in his dark eyes.

Bleu’s gaze darkened and Loren could see he was considering all the ways he could rid himself of the child he viewed as a pest.

“Let’s allow them to go on their way,” the mother said, flicking a nervous glance at them both. Her boy had no fear of them but she was another matter.

“But he’s an elf. I want to know if he lives at the North Pole.” The child pouted at his mother. The woman smiled shakily at them both.

“I live in Hel–” Bleu started.

Loren clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him. “Helsinki… which is near this North Pole you speak of.”

He scowled at Bleu. Bleu shrugged, no sign of remorse in his steady green gaze. He would have words with his second in command later, when they were alone. Telling the boy they were from Hell would have been disastrous.

“So you know Santa Claus?” The boy continued to smile at him. The mother continued to try to drag him away.

Loren wasn’t sure what to say. He stared down at the child, seeing not a blond lad with dark eyes but a small boy with black hair and purple eyes, and his mother’s smile. His heart ached in his chest at the thought of his love with Olivia bringing new life into the world.

“My prince?” Bleu asked in their own language.

Loren held his hand up to reassure him that he was well and then pulled the hat from his head to reveal his pointed ears and crouched before the boy.

“Another elf.” The boy reached for him and the woman looked as if she might scream. Loren gave her a reassuring smile and nodded, hoping she would see that he meant no harm to her offspring.

The young boy touched his pointed ear and gasped. “It’s real. You’re really an elf?”

He nodded, his heart squeezing in his chest at the excitement that flittered across the boy’s face.

“And you know Santa?”

He still wasn’t sure what to say in response to that and he still couldn’t stop picturing the boy as his own, imagining how it would feel to see this excitement and curiosity in his own child’s eyes, this wonder at the world. He had lost that wonder centuries ago, not long into his five thousand years in this world, and envied the boy.

“Of course he knows Santa Claus.” The familiar female voice coming from behind him sent warmth seeping through his bones. “Don’t all elves?”

Loren looked over his shoulder at Olivia. She stood behind him, a beautiful smile curving her rosy lips, her eyes sparkling with it under the twinkling illuminations above her. Her dark hair tumbled from beneath her red woollen hat, cascading over the shoulders of her black winter coat.

She stepped forwards, her smile growing as she met his gaze, and then looked beyond him to the boy. She placed her hands on Loren’s shoulders.

“Have you been a good little boy?” she said and Loren wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him now, or the child.

“Very,” the boy answered and looked up at his mother. “Haven’t I?”

The mother gave a stiff nod.

“Then I’m sure these two elves will tell Santa all about it and you’ll get your wish,” Olivia said and the boy grinned at her, and then at Loren.

Loren’s heart seized again. Bleu huffed a sigh and muttered about the cold and the number of bags he was carrying.

The mother finally managed to pull her child away. He waved as he went, constantly looking behind him until the crowd swallowed them both.

Loren rose to his feet, towering over Olivia, and looked down into her enchanting dark eyes.

She stepped up to him, ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders, and tipped her head back. “And what about you? Have you been a good little boy?”

Loren smiled and nodded, and her smile turned wicked and tempting. He would take his reward later, when they were alone in his rooms at the castle.

“I came to find you when Sable said you had gone shopping and had taken Bleu of all people as your guide.”

Bleu growled at her. Loren stifled a chuckle. She was right. Bleu was not the best choice, had not been much assistance in helping him find the perfect presents for Olivia, but he was his friend and he appreciated him offering to keep him company.

Olivia took the hat from his hands and placed it back onto his head, her fingers brushing his ears at the same time, sending a hot shivery ache through him. He wanted to teleport her home now and lay her down on his bed, making love to her for hours.

“So… elves… what possessed you to go shopping at a time of year that paints your kind as small, extremely happy, and with a penchant for wearing green and red?”

Loren brushed his fingers across her cold rosy cheek. “I desired to get you a present.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? What did you get?”

She tried to look over at the bags Bleu carried. Loren stopped her, cupping her cheek with his palm and keeping her gaze on him.

“That would spoil the surprise. You will find out on the appropriate day.” He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, his gaze dropping there and his blood heating. “What present will you give me… since I have been a good elf?”

Olivia grinned saucily, tiptoed and whispered into his ear.

Loren’s eyes widened and turned purple and his pointed ears flared beneath his hat. He growled, tugged her against him, and teleported, landing them in their rooms in the castle. Olivia giggled as he swept her up into his arms and carried her towards their bed, and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

As he laid her down on the dark purple sheets and covered her with his body, kissing her, he realised that she had already given him the most wonderful present in the world.

She had given him her love.

She had given herself to him forever.

And he felt certain that at some point in the future, when they were both ready, she would give him another wonderful gift. A child to share their love and their world.

But for now she was all his.

He kissed a trail down her throat.

And he would show her just how good an elf he could be for her.

This story was based on:

Kissed by a Dark Prince (Eternal Mates Book 1)

Olivia thinks it’s her lucky night when a dangerously handsome unconscious fae ends up on her inspection table. He’s her chance to redeem herself with her employer, the demon-hunting organisation, Archangel. But when the tall, dark and deadly immortal warrior awakes, she gets much more than she bargained for…

Attacked by his enemy in the elf kingdom, the last thing Prince Loren expects when he comes around is a beautiful angel watching over him and medical technology of the mortal realm. Hazy from his injuries, all he can focus on is the pulse ticking in her throat and the sweet allure of her blood.

One single bite reveals she is his eternal mate, triggering a bond between them that will leave him weakened until it is completed… or broken, and pulling Olivia into the crossfire of his ancient feud.

To protect his people and his mate from the machinations of a madman, Loren must risk everything by working with Olivia at Archangel to find a way to break the bond blossoming between them.

But will Loren be strong enough to place duty before desire and give up the one thing he has waited millennia for and craves above all others—his eternal mate? And will Olivia be able to resist the incredible heat that burns between them and the temptation of her dark prince’s kiss?

This ebook is available worldwide at all Amazon Kindle stores and all Apple iBookstores. Please check your local Amazon site or Apple iBooks / iTunes for my books if the store isn’t linked above.

Paperback available from:

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Audiobook available from:

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Published on December 22, 2017 05:22

December 20, 2017

Unchained by a Forbidden Love (Eternal Mates Book 15) is out now + awesome giveaway!

Belated Happy New Release Day to Fuery and Shaia in my Eternal Mates paranormal romance series!

UNCHAINED BY A FORBIDDEN LOVE, book 15 in the series, is out now. It’s time to catch up with what has been happening in this world of dark elves, shifters, fae, demons and angels…

Over the coming two weeks, I’ll be sharing the first four chapters of this book. Read on for chapter one, and details of the awesome giveaway you can enter!

Unchained by a Forbidden Love (Eternal Mates Book 15)

It was never a good day when he woke with the taste of blood on his tongue and no recollection of how it had got there.

Again.

Fuery stared up into the darkness, cold sweat trickling over his exposed chest and sticking the thin black bedclothes to his legs. He breathed hard, each heavy desperate exhalation shattering the silence, rasping in his ears together with his thundering heartbeat.

Icy claws gripped him, sinking into the blackened remains of his heart, attempting to pierce deep enough to reach whatever fragment of light remained in him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, dragged down a shuddering breath and held it, unwilling to let fear pull him into the darkness. He would not let it win. He couldn’t. He exhaled slowly, a measured pace that created a sliver of calm, enough to give him the strength to shake the grip of his fear and allow him to extinguish that emotion.

Because fear was a weakness.

He did not feel such things.

He hadn’t in a long time.

Not since he had hardened himself to the world.

Not since that night.

Fuery screwed his eyes shut even tighter, his lips drawing into a grimace that flashed his emerging fangs as the darkness welled again, pulling up memories from the abyss. They surged and fought for freedom, and he growled as he pushed back against them, battled and resisted them. The fight took longer this time, strained minutes in which the fear slithered back in and wrapped around him again, squeezing his lungs tight and hissing whispered taunts in his ear, words about the terrible sins he had committed that had the memories surging harder, almost breaking to the surface.

He gripped the sides of his head and squeezed hard as he snarled through his clenched fangs. Tears cut down his temples, hot against his chilled skin. He didn’t want to remember, but he could never forget either.

He didn’t want to go back into the darkness, refused to sink into oblivion again and do the vile bidding of the darkness that lived inside him. Not again.

He grappled with fear, wrestled with the darkness, and fought the tide of memories, and somehow, the gods only knew how, he managed to subdue them and vanquish the raw agony and the sheer terror that threatened to push him back over the edge.

He panted hard, body trembling from the exertion of overcoming the darkness and clawing his way back to the light.

Couldn’t think about that night.

Never look back.

The past was pain.

A constant source of it that scoured his blackened soul.

No looking back.

He inhaled and exhaled, keeping them measured and deep, struggling for calm again as his past and his present churned inside him, rocking him and trying to keep him off balance, on the brink of teetering back into the abyss.

No looking back.

Fuery chanted it in his mind as he sought the calm—the quiet.

It was slow to come while the darkness roared inside him, drawn out by the fear that had paralyzed him, weakened him and opened him to it. Its inky tendrils snaked around his heart and squeezed it in his hollow chest.

Attempted to claim his soul.

Calm seemed an impossible dream while blood coated his tongue.

But gods, he wanted it, reached for it, desperate to shirk the grip of the fear and the darkness again.

They combined to overpower him and he could feel himself slipping again, skidding down that terrifying slope towards the cold forbidding darkness where it reached for him, beckoned him with promises of oblivion and an escape from the madness.

From the pain.

No looking back.

The past was a nightmare.

The past was pain.

Always pain.

He opened his eyes and stared up into the darkness as he forced himself to see where he was in a vain attempt to focus on the present. He was here, in the guild, in the free realm of Hell. He was far away from there. Leagues from the elf kingdom. Centuries away from his past.

Light streaked across the darkness and his eyes swiftly adjusted to the onslaught. A shadow made the slim vertical shaft flicker and then brightness exploded in the room, driving back the darkness entirely.

Just as the male on the threshold of his room drove it from his soul.

Hartt looked at him through sleep-filled eyes and murmured huskily in the elf tongue, “I felt you stir. Everything alright?”

Fuery went to nod, because any other response would leave him weak. Vulnerable. He stopped himself, paused and stared at Hartt where he stood dressed in only a loose pair of black cotton trousers and scrubbing a hand over his short sleep-mussed black-blue hair, yawning the whole time.

He didn’t need to protect himself like that with this male.

Hartt knew the truth of him. Knew his secrets. His story.

Fuery slowly shook his head.

Hartt yawned again, smacked his lips together and rubbed sleep from his violet eyes as he stepped into the room. He quietly closed the door, descending the room back into darkness that lasted only a second. A soft glow burned in the glass lamp on the low round wooden table near the window to Fuery’s left and gradually gained strength, driving back the shadows again and drawing some of the darkness out of the black plastered walls, softening the bleak colour.

Hartt’s doing, because Fuery’s own powers were unpredictable.

Unreliable since that night.

The male padded silently barefoot across the stone floor towards him and sat on the edge of the bed on his left, causing Fuery to roll towards him. The warm light chased over Hartt, throwing the left half of his face into shadow.

Hartt’s violet eyes softened as they met his. “Tell me about it.”

Fuery sank back into the double mattress on a sigh and averted his gaze, pinning it back on the wooden ceiling. Gods, he didn’t want to speak about it. Everything in him screamed to protect himself by making the male go away, but that light Hartt always seemed to draw out of him emulated the lamp, fought to grow brighter and drive the darkness back.

He had to speak about it. Years of experience had taught him that. Holding it inside would only give the darkness a firmer hold on him, making it harder to shake it and increasing the risk of him sinking into that terrible oblivion again.

He didn’t want to go there.

So he forced himself to speak.

“I woke…” His hands tensed against his bare stomach, fingers curling into fists, and he pushed onwards. “I woke with the taste of blood in my mouth.”

He could still taste it now.

He dropped his gaze to his body. No trace of crimson on his torso. He uncurled his hands and lifted them, stared at his fingers and his callused palms, scouring them for a sign, some evidence that he had lost himself to the darkness and had killed.

There wasn’t a single fleck of blood on him.

But it was there in his mouth.

Coppery. Vile.

“I think I did something terrible,” he whispered and shook his head, numbness sweeping through him and bringing fear in its wake, a stronger wave this time, one that threatened to pull him under. Break him. “I don’t remember. I can’t recall how I got to my bed.”

He shifted his gaze to land on Hartt.

The pity shining in Hartt’s violet eyes drove shame through his heart like a spear and he quickly looked away.

“I put you here,” Hartt said softly, his deep voice a bare whisper but one that soothed Fuery, easing his fear and the grip the darkness had on him. “You had an… episode… and I brought you home.”

Relief bloomed inside him, sweet and warm, but the darkness still refused to release him and worry continued to slither inside him like a living thing, hissing in his ear that Hartt was lying, that he had killed and the male was covering it up.

Hartt seemed to see it, because he sighed and jerked his chin towards him. “Open your mouth.”

Fuery didn’t hesitate to do as he was ordered. The male leaned over, peered into his mouth and lifted his top lip with his left hand. When he prodded Fuery’s tongue on the left side, sharp pain lanced the length of it and he flinched, almost biting Hartt’s finger. The male was too fast for him though, reacted in a heartbeat and had his finger clear before Fuery’s fangs could pierce his flesh.

“You must have bitten your tongue when you were thrashing around. That’s all.” Hartt eased back.

Gods, the relief that hit Fuery this time was like ambrosia. It poured through him, washing away his worry and easing the chill from his blood.

Hartt’s lips tugged into a smile and he slowly shook his head. “For a male who makes a living taking lives, you are oddly affected by the idea of killing.”

Fuery knew it was a paradox, that Hartt was right and he had no qualms about his life as an assassin.

But there was a vast difference between killing when he was in control and murder when he was lost to the darkness.

He had felt that way for many centuries.

He had felt it since that night.

Now he couldn’t bear the idea he might kill someone innocent during one of his blackouts.

He looked to Hartt and saw in his eyes that he wouldn’t tell him if he did. Hartt was noble in his desire to protect him from the pain of the things he did when the darkness was in control, but Fuery didn’t want his friend to lie to him, to cover the truth and spare him like that.

He needed to know the things that he did. He had to know them. He could never atone, but he could bear his sins.

Because all that he had done, and all that he might do, paled in comparison to the sin he had committed.

That night.

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Published on December 20, 2017 05:08

December 4, 2017

#SnowAudio Giveaway – WIN books 1-4 in my Eternal Mates Paranormal Romance Series!

It’s the time of giving, and loads of authors have come together under the hashtag #SnowAudio to bring you a little seasonal spirit this winter. Just search for that tag on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram and get entering the fantastic giveaways between now and December 15th.

I’m giving you the chance to win one of two sets of books 1-4 in my Eternal Mates paranormal romance series in audio.

All you need to do to enter, is sign up to my mailing list below.

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The small print: Giveaway is international. Closes on December 15th. Winners will be drawn at random and notified via email. By signing up to my mailing list through this giveaway, you agree to receive emails from me. You can unsubscribe at any time after the giveaway ends. In order to win the prize, you need to be able to use either audible.com or audible.co.uk as you’ll receive codes to download the books for free at one of those stores.

Happy Holidays!

As always, my comments are open, and I’d love to hear from you!

Felicity Heaton

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Published on December 04, 2017 03:55

November 3, 2017

Talking Tuesday – Character Q&A With Tor from the Vampires Realm Series

Welcome to another installment of Talking Tuesday Friday! I’m a bit late this week. It was my day off on Tuesday, and then on Wednesday I was focused on completing the first draft of Unchained by a Forbidden Love, and then yesterday I had meant to post this and got caught up in working on my new-look website.

Every Tuesday, I’ll either be answering questions myself, or posing questions to one of my characters from my paranormal romance books. All of these questions are submitted to me by my awesome readers at my Fang Club, a Facebook Group where I chat with my readers. Asking questions is exclusive to members of my Fang Club, so if you want to get in on the action, you’ll have to join the group.

This week, I had the task of posing questions to Tor, the cold, methodical, and delicious vampire assassin in my Vampires Realm Series. You can read Tor’s romance in Hunger!

Talking Tuesday with Tor

Felicity: Welcome Tor! I bet I’ll hear no complaints from you today. It’s probably nice escaping the bloodline’s mansion.

Tor: *nods* I still find it a little… unsettling… being there so much, but Eve needs to be with her sister.

Felicity: Well, this little interview should provide you with a nice break. You’re having a one-on-one interview with Kirsty Hatto today, because she did an amazing job filling my request for questions with around a zillion. That’s how much she cares.

Tor: That was very sweet of her. I don’t hold much love for mortals, or anyone outside my bloodline, but I do appreciate it.

Felicity: So, first up, Kirsty wanted to know how is Eve and what have you been doing lately as we haven’t heard from you?

Tor: Eve is well. She is settling in now and becoming accustomed to being at the mansion, although she likes to escape as often as I do, which suits me just fine. We’ve been busy helping the Law Keepers.

Felicity: Sounds interesting. You mentioned escaping, so that’s the perfect lead into my next question from Kirsty. How are you coping with your elevated status from servant to elite?

Tor: *grimaces* As well as can be expected. I don’t belong in that world, but Eve does, and while I don’t like the attention it gets me, I will cope with it for her.

Felicity: You really don’t like it… but it’s sweet that you put up with it for Eve. Do you believe yourself worthy of Eve now that you are by her side and know how she truly feels about you?

Tor: *tips his head back and sighs* Yes… and no. I know we are both hunters, but… sometimes I just feel… *runs hand over his ice-blond shorn hair* I don’t know… not unworthy… just… like I’m going to sully her or something.

Felicity: Eve loves you though, all of you, and she thinks you’re worthy of her. I’m sure in time you’ll become accustomed to it, probably before you become accustomed to being stuck in a mansion.

Tor: You’re probably right about that. I think we’re spending more time at the cabin than at the mansion recently. We were there for a long period, and I slowly went insane, and Eve was right there with me. She doesn’t like the attention either, but she loves being with Lilith.

Felicity: Kirsty asked about that too. Are Lilith and Eve inseparable?

Tor: Devil, you know it. Even when I whisk Eve away for a few days, she always needs to be able to talk with Lilith. She’s working through a lot of stuff that is hard for her, and Lilith has been through it, so while I can help my little huntress, her sister can help her more.

Felicity: It’s good that you’re both so supportive. While you’re at the mansion, do you get to speak with Lincoln? I ask because Kirsty wanted to know about him. She said you and Lincoln had an interesting relationship during your story, so she asked whether you’re good friends?

Tor: Lincoln is probably the only one in our bloodline I ever gave a damn about, before Lilith and Eve came along. He’s been through some serious shit, and proven himself, and he’s the only one who hasn’t treated me as something inferior that shouldn’t be seen, and is unworthy of being in the mansion. So… I guess you could call us friends. We’ve grown closer since Eve and Lilith were reunited. They are always off together, so myself and Lincoln entertain ourselves as best we can while we wait for them to come back to us.

Felicity: Patient mates… that’s a new one on me. I’m use to dealing with the impatient sort.

Tor: *grins* Oh, I’m impatient… but I know good things come to those who wait.

Felicity: Like Eve. You waited, and you were rewarded. Do you and Eve go out and hunt bad guys together? If so, is it fun to have her as your partner?

Tor: I tried to put a halt to that, but she wouldn’t have it, so we hunt together. She’s strong, and it’s good to have her as a partner. We have each other’s backs.

Felicity: Are you able to communicate telepathically? Does it make hunting together easier?

Tor: *nods* She’s always broadcasting her wicked thoughts into my head at the most inappropriate times. It’s hard to be the perfect model of an elite to earn some shred of respect from the bastards at the bloodline when she can turn me into a growling, snarling, restless beast with just a well-placed thought. Damn woman fires me up like nothing else can. *clears throat* Where was I? Hunting? Yes, it makes hunting easier. I can keep tabs on her, and she can reach me, and we can call each other if we need help. It’s good.

Felicity: Sounds useful. You’re making me envious. Are there any vampires that you think will have their own adventure or are secretly hiding feelings for each other?

Tor: *leans forward a little* You mean like one particular couple who really shouldn’t have feelings for each other? Because, yes, I noticed that, and I’m not sure how the vampires they work with haven’t yet.

Felicity: Ooh, yeah… they’re certainly up there for the title of most scandalous couple.

Tor: The world might end if their comrades figure it out… but maybe they’re ignoring it. Wouldn’t be much fun to have to hunt down your friends and bring them up for trial, and execution.

Felicity: No it wouldn’t. Kirsty had a couple more questions, so let’s talk about your father-in-law. How is Oneiric? Does he visit much or at all?

Tor: He is well. Keeps to himself. I take Eve to see him once in a while, and he’s come to the Law Keepers to discuss matters with them a few times. He’s only come to the mansion a couple of times. Lilith and Eve cause a huge fuss when it happens. I get the feeling he’s not that big on balls and huge celebrations.

Felicity: No, I can’t really see him enjoying those. Let’s end on a couple of questions from Kirsty about Eve. Do you still have premonitions after tasting Eve’s blood?

Tor: Yes. Nothing bad so far. I see good things, which is a relief.

Felicity: And my final question from Kirsty. If you could go back and change one thing in your life, would you? And if so, what would it be?

Tor: I wouldn’t change a damned thing. Why risk losing the best thing in my life by changing the worst parts? Everything I’ve been through brought me to Eve, and this is exactly where I intend to stay for the rest of my life.

Felicity: Aw, man, you’re a cutie. I love a big, dangerous man getting all sweet and mushy over his lady.

Tor: *growls* Watch it. I bite, remember?

Felicity: Is that a promise? Go on with you. I think we’ve kept you long enough, and judging by the way your eyes are changing colour and your cheeks look a little redder, Eve is putting ideas in your head again. It’s been fun interviewing you, and I really need to catch up with everyone in your world soon!

Tor: Till then.

Felicity: *watches him go* Still a fine backside on that vampire. *sighs* From a deadly vampire assassin to the king of Hell next week. This should be interesting!

Thanks for reading my Talking Tuesday interview and I hope that you’ll swing by the blog again next week to see who we’re interviewing then!

As always, my comments are open, and I’d love to hear from you!

Felicity Heaton

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Published on November 03, 2017 05:27

November 1, 2017

WIP Wednesday – Unchained by a Forbidden Love complete in first draft!

eternal-mates

I had hoped to make this announcement earlier than November 1st, but I’ve finally completed the first draft of Unchained by a Forbidden Love, Fuery and Shaia’s book in the Eternal Mates series.

It’s been a long time coming. I started writing this book in the summer, before I decided to set it aside to write my three tiger shifter books in the series. I picked it up again in August, and between hitting a creative wall and real life stuff, it’s taken me until now to type the final few words on the page.

All in all, I spent 25 days working on this book, clocking up 105,000 words in that time. That’s far longer than it normally takes me to write a novel of this length, but with my upper back / neck / shoulder and arms problems (I have terrible ulnar nerve issues from too much writing – it’s like carpal tunnel, but it’s my ulnar nerves instead) I just can’t write as many words each day anymore, not without causing myself excruciating pain that slows me down even more. So, slow and steady wins the race. I miss those days of clocking up 10,000 words in a day though!

At least the first draft is done, and my second draft is chewing through a whole ream of paper now as I print it so it’s ready for me to read over once I start the editing process.

I’m not going to make any promises about the release date for this one, but expect to see it before the end of the year. Once I get a feel of the shape it’s in, I’ll be able to plan when it will be ready for sale.

But I can promise I won’t keep you waiting any longer than necessary!

As always, my comments are open, and I’d love to hear from you!

Felicity Heaton

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Published on November 01, 2017 07:04

October 30, 2017

Manday Hotties – Hot Beach Guys to Warm You Up!

It’s cold here in the UK now, and we had our first frost of autumn this morning, and I need a little warming up so I found some more sexy beach guys to brighten my day…

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Which one would you take a dip with?

I’m going with #1 because he’s one of my favourite models

As always, my comments are open, and I’d love to hear from you!

Felicity Heaton

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Published on October 30, 2017 06:29

October 24, 2017

Talking Tuesday – Character Q&A With Sable from the Eternal Mates Series

Welcome to another installment of Talking Tuesday!

This week, I had the task of posing questions to Sable, the oh-so-kick-ass mortal huntress in my Eternal Mates Series. You can read Sable’s romance in Claimed by a Demon King!

Talking Tuesday with Sable

Felicity: Welcome Sable! It’s nice to see you without your usual escort today.

Sable: *sighs* Thorne can be a little… possessive. It’s not a bad thing, but sometimes a girl needs her space.

Felicity: I completely understand. Well, it’s great to have you here to answer some questions from my awesome Fang Club members.

Sable: I can’t wait. Thorne’s been asking me all week what I expect to be asked, and I think he just wants to hear that all the ladies will be asking about him. I just kept saying they were bound to ask about Bleu.

Felicity: *clears throat* Well, his name might have been mentioned once or twice. Since you brought him up, why don’t we start with him? Kirsty Hatto is so good with these questions and always finds one to ask, and this time she wants to know whether you ever find Thorne and Bleu’s “friendship” trying? And also, do you ever get jealous of Taryn and Bleu?

Sable: *pulls a thoughtful face* Jealous? I’m not sure. Maybe a little… at times… but I’m so happy for him. He really needed someone to love, and after speaking with Olivia and Loren, I sort of realised what he was going through at the time everything kicked off and I felt bad. I should have noticed earlier how he really felt, and done something more supportive. I mean, I did sort of use Bleu to make Thorne jealous once or twice.

Felicity: You’re not the only one to use Bleu to make another male jealous. Vail still hates him a little because of what Rosalind told him. What about Thorne and Bleu’s friendship?

Sable: It’s developing. They went hunting recently, when Bleu came to visit and I might have pulled him aside and told him that Thorne needed to blow off some steam. Things have been trying for Thorne recently, and he’s been so busy and stressed out. I wanted him to have some man-time and convinced Bleu to go hunting with him.

Felicity: Oh dear… was it as bad as last time?

Sable: *gleefully shakes head* No! I was as shocked as you are when they came back unscathed… and laughing. Laughing! I felt sure I had died and gone to some weird sort of Heaven.

Felicity: It’s good to hear they’re getting along better. Speaking of Heaven… Ashley Couch wanted to know if you’re still hiding your wings from everyone, and are the angels still looking for you?

Sable: *blows out a sigh* Yes and yes. My wings are growing, but they’re still not fully developed. I’m learning to control them now, but I still feel sick whenever I bring them out. Thorne is a huge help with them and he’s so supportive. I bagged a good one for sure.

Felicity: I heard there are angels in Hell quite often these days. Things seem to be kicking off.

Sable: It’s certainly keeping them busy, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s fucking awesome because it’s keeping them off my back.

Felicity: I have more questions about your angelic heritage, this time coming from Tracy Benjamin who asked if you’ve fully unlocked your angel powers yet?

Sable: Far from it, I think. I mean, I get a little vibe every so often, and my ability to sense demons is stronger, but I’m a fucking long way from that angel who showed up wanting to take me with him. I’m still not sure what my powers will be when they manifest. I’ve been training with Aurora, the ex-angel at Vampirerotique in London, but even she can’t read me to see what my powers might be. I know they’ll be diminished because of my half-mortal blood though.

Felicity: Tracy also wanted to know what it was like it like leaving the mortal realm? She didn’t think she would be able to do it. Also, are you going to have a traditional wedding? Or just whatever it is demons do?

Sable: I married Thorne in the traditional way, with a small ceremony. I’m not really a white-dress woman. Marriage was never really on my agenda. Our ceremony was nice… in a demonic way. As for leaving the mortal realm, I still go back regularly. It’s a risk, but Thorne is always there with me, and I’ve learned a little of the demon tongue to help me. Turns out my half-mortal blood makes me tolerant of it, which is nifty. If any angels show up, I plan to spew every fucking word I know in that language until they’re so crippled from hearing it I can just flee. *grins* Or maybe kick them in the balls while they’re down and then flee.

Felicity: The second one sounds more like you. Natalie Muir asked me to ask you whether it was difficult to make the decision to leave Archangel and what do you do now that you don’t work for them as a hunter?

Sable: I miss it in a way. It was hard, but it just wasn’t working out. I tried to split my time and continue my work with them, but I think we’re both treading very different paths now, ones that have forced us apart. Now, I spend most of my day training new warriors.

Felicity: So not much has changed. You’re still training people, still being a kick ass warrior, and rather than the mortal realm, you now protect a demon kingdom.

Sable: *nods* That about sums it up. *grins*

Felicity: Kathy Dela Cruz wanted to ask about how you’re finding being a queen? How often do you see Olivia? And have you learned the demon language enough to have a conversation with the widowed females in Thorne’s kingdom?

Sable: I see Olivia all the time. We’re inseparable you know? Thorne takes me to the elf kingdom every Saturday to spend the day with her, and Loren brings her to our castle every couple of weeks, and sometimes we force the men to take us topside to the mortal world so we can shop.

Felicity: Oh, I bet Thorne loves that… hiding his horns? Sheesh. He’s probably grumpy all day.

Sable: *laughs* I make it up to him when we get home. *winks* I’m getting off topic though. I thought being a queen would be… different. Regal bullshit, daintiness and fainting. That sort of crap. Turns out being a demon queen is more like what I was already used to. Thorne lets me be really hands on with the training and visiting the villages, and the garrisons. The warriors love it. They’re always mumbling about having a strong queen and how the other kingdoms envy them.

Felicity: Well, at least you get to continue doing what you love. You said you speak a little more of the language now and visit the villages. Do you meet with the widowed?

Sable: I do my part. I try to make sure the women have all the comforts they need and are able to raise their children without worrying about food or anything like that, but really, the demons take great care of the women and the kids. The whole community gathers around any of the widowed. It’s touching to see it.

Felicity: Sounds beautiful. I have a few more questions and then you can get back to Thorne. I’m surprised he hasn’t teleported in here to sweep you away yet! Angela Brungardt Caldwell asked what is the one thing you wish other people knew about you? What are you most afraid of? And what is your life motto?

Sable: I wish I could be honest and tell everyone that I’m a half-breed, but I worry about how the demons in the wider kingdom will react. Thorne’s close guard who witnessed my change on the battlefield know, but have vowed to keep it a secret until I’m ready to tell everyone. They seem okay with it, which gives me hope. The thing I fear most… angels taking me from Thorne, or something happening to Thorne… I don’t think I could live without him. I’m not sure I have a motto or anything… but as a huntress, before going into battle, we used to jokingly say to live the day like it’s their last… a way of sort of buoying ourselves up to believe it’s the enemies last day, not ours. Thorne has a motto I like, and it sounds poetic in the demon tongue, but funny when you translate it as it comes out as something like, make them eat your boot.

Felicity: It sounds very Thorne. I think I’m done, so I suppose I should let you get back to your queenly duties and your king. He’s probably desperate to have you back.

Sable: Ah, I’ll just pet his horns a little and he’ll be fine. He’s a kitten really.

Felicity: More like a lion, but okay… if you say he’s a kitten, we’ll write it on the record that he’s a kitten. He’ll love that.

Sable: Oh gods, don’t… I’d get into so much trouble. You know the macho-bullshit demons embrace. I’m out of here before I get myself in deep shit. Laters!

Felicity: Laters! Take care of that big’ol’demon of yours… I’ll have to interview him at some point.

Thanks for reading my Talking Tuesday interview and I hope that you’ll swing by the blog again next week to see who we’re interviewing then!

As always, my comments are open, and I’d love to hear from you!

Felicity Heaton

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Published on October 24, 2017 02:55

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