Angela Knight's Blog, page 4

A Taste of Magic

Dear Reader -- I'm delighted to share a sneak-peak at my newest Mageverse novel, Master of Magic, coming Oct. 17, 2017
Return to New York Times bestselling author Angela Knight’s Mageverse in this never-before-published novella about a man with mysterious abilities and a hidden past—and the woman who must help him decipher his secrets.
Olivia Flynn finds herself on the brink of death, unable to call upon her Sidhe magic, when a handsome stranger rescues her. But this male is no ordinary human, and Olivia wants nothing to do with him. The foreign magic boiling around him is far beyond the power of even the Sidhe.    Rhys Kincade has never been able to explain his magical abilities. Olivia is the first person he’s encountered who shares his gifts. But before he can ask her about them, they find themselves under attack by a pack of werewolf assassins. An even deadlier threat follows, and the pair is forced to rely on each other as they fight unknown enemies—and an ever-growing attraction between them.

You can pre-order the e-book for $2.99 here:
Amazon         Barnes and Noble     Kobo




Olivia found herself longing to feel the slide and roll of the tendons, the warmth of the skin. Were his palms callused? How would it feel if he touched her?The craving to touch him, to explore all that powerful muscle made her heart beat faster. She’d spent too many years as a Sidhe alone among humans, pretending to be something  wasn’t. Unable to reveal who and what she really was.I don’t have to hide with him. He’s in the same boat I am.But this isn’t the time. I’m being targeted, maybe by Gorin, maybe by somebody else. Either way, I can’t afford to get distracted. She dragged her eyes away from that big, tempting body. Fought to control her need.“If our bad guy intended to use you as bait,” Rhys said slowly, “why give you your power back? They could’ve kept you paralyzed while those guys killed us both.” He made an impatient noise. “But like you said, it doesn’t make any sense that you’d be working with them, especially given that you killed that wolf to save me.” His amber eyes focused on her, intent and cool. “I need to know if I’m right to trust you.”Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but he leaned forward and caught her jaw in one big hand. She froze as the sensation of warm, rough skin made her arousal surge yet again.Then his magic hit in a tingling rush. With a gasp of alarm, she tried to shield, but his power blew right through her hasty barriers as if they were tissue paper.They were nose to nose. Close enough to kiss.His amber eyes changed color in a flash, the irises going a bright, piercing gold as the pupils shrank to pinpricks. It wasn’t a human gaze at all. He spoke, his voice resonant and deep. “Are you working with them?”“No.” He’s put me under a geas! Betrayed anger made her grit her teeth. And she’d just been thinking how much she wanted him! Idiot!“Do you know who did this? Do you know who’s trying to kill me?”In her anger, she fought not to answer. The answers poured from her lips anyway. “I have no idea what’s happening or why. I don’t know who cast the geas on me, and I don’t know why anyone would do it to me or why anyone would want you dead.”“Why are you cooperating with me?”“Gorin killed my husband and son for King Ansgar. I’ve dreamed of killing him for centuries. You have the power to help me avenge them.”His hand dropped away from her face, and the compulsion broke.Olivia jumped off the couch and backed across the room until her shoulders hit the fireplace mantle. “Don’t you everdo that to me again!”Seeing something glowing in her peripheral vision, she realized a fireball floated over her right hand. She banished it, knowing bitterly she didn’t have a prayer against Rhys in afight.But instead of attacking her, Rhys sank back into the couch, his hands falling loose in his lap. He looked shamed, almost defeated. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I had to know if you were telling me the truth.”“You could’ve trusted me—the way I’m going to have to trust you, because I can’t put youunder a geas.” Her voice sounded more than a little bitter. “I don’t have the power.”

An excerpt of a love scene from Master of Magic, coming in October, 2017

Dear Reader -- I'm delighted to share a sneak-peak at my newest Mageverse novel, Master of Magic, coming in October, 2017 from Berkley Sensation. Return to New York Times bestselling author Angela Knight’s Mageverse in this never-before-published novella about a man with mysterious abilities and a hidden past—and the woman who must help him decipher his secrets.
Olivia Flynn finds herself on the brink of death, unable to call upon her Sidhe magic, when a handsome stranger rescues her. But this male is no ordinary human, and Olivia wants nothing to do with him. The foreign magic boiling around him is far beyond the power of even the Sidhe.    Rhys Kincade has never been able to explain his magical abilities. Olivia is the first person he’s encountered who shares his gifts. But before he can ask her about them, they find themselves under attack by a pack of werewolf assassins. An even deadlier threat follows, and the pair is forced to rely on each other as they fight unknown enemies—and an ever-growing attraction between them.

You can pre-order the e-book for $2.99 here:
Amazon         Barnes and Noble     Kobo

****


Rhys leaned forward and spread his fingers on the wall, his eyes drifting closed. His full lips tightened, making her imagine what he would taste like.Power shot from his fingers, tracing the length of the wall, spreading outward and upward and down into the earth. Olivia felt the spell shoot around the house, much more powerful than her own ward. “That’s a little too strong. It would wake you up every time a leaf blew against it.”“Ah. Okay, let me try that again.” He drew the magic back out of the ward, then spun it out again. The air filled with the smell of ozone and something that reminded her of sandalwood on a cool night wind. The muscles of his angular face tightened in concentration as his eyes narrowed.Again, she saw that flash of gold across his irises, a marked contrast to his normal amber.When he dropped his hand and turned to her, a pleased boy’s smile spread over his mouth. “How about that?”Goddess, he looked so tall and broad and powerful. So profoundly male. Arousal surged through her in a ravenous wave, more intense than anything she’d ever felt before.This isn’t right, an uneasy mental voice whispered. She never went up in flames this fast. And certainly not to a man who’d just invaded her mind with a spell.He went very still then, as if something in her eyes had given her away. His pupils flared gold and his carnal lips parted . . .Before Olivia even knew what she was doing, she’d plastered herself full-length against him. He stiffened in astonishment, might even have pulled away . . . Except she covered his mouth with hers, kissed him with heat and greed, enjoying the blend of spices and ozone . . .And felt something darker, something wilder she didn’t recognize at all.Something she craved. Forgetfulness. A moment’s peace and pleasure. An escape from the guilt and loneliness . . . With a moan of delight, she opened even wider.
Rhys tensed, shock rolling through him. What the hell was she doing?A moment later, he didn’t care. His consciousness was full of Olivia, the soft weight and pressure of her breasts against his chest, her cool hands cupping his face as her mouth moved urgently over his. Her taste filled his senses with a delicious little crackle and tingle flavored with Riesling and the fresh, sharp taste of ozone.Rhys loved women. There were times when the only distraction he could find from the pressure to succeed was in the body of women. He was nobody’s idea of inexperienced.And yet no one’s mouth had ever tasted like Olivia’s. As if she fit him somehow, matched him perfectly on some level. Even physically; he had to stoop to kiss most women in an uncomfortable contortion of his far taller body. Yet Olivia could reach his mouth in flats.And he could reach hers.His hands came up, closing around her shoulders, pulling her tight, the better to feel the firm, lithe strength of her body. It seemed the only soft parts of her were those tempting breasts.He didn’t feel he had to hold back with her, didn’t have to worry that with his greater strength he’d hurt her. He remembered the way she’d leaped and spun with that sword in her hand.Olivia wouldn’t break.That had been his fear with every woman he’d dated since he was seventeen. He’d never injured anyone badly, but he’d inflicted bruises more than once before learning the art of sensual delicacy.Olivia was no stranger to that particular art, either. Her long fingers traced the contours of his jaw, the tendons working along the line of his throat. Then they slid down to explore his chest, the width of his shoulders, the thick contours of muscle and bone.She rolled her hips against him, her belly pressing deliciously against his erection. Rhys found the curve of her ass, cupped her hips, caressed and stroked. She drew back from his mouth, just far enough to gasp. “I need you.”The only response he could manage was a groan.****  I'd also like to announce I’ll be the keynote speaker at the 2018 BDSM Writer’s Conference in New York Aug. 16-19. This conference will include demonstrations about writing for the dominance and submission markets, as well as demos of techniques used by real-life Dominants and submissives. The conference is also accepting workshop proposals. I’m going to be teaching a seminar on writing an erotic romance from brainstorming to revision. I hope you’ll check it out! 
Best,Angela Knight  

An excerpt from my upcoming Fight Scene class

Hi! I wanted to give my fellow writers a taste of an online class I'll be teaching on Fight Scenes beginning Sept. 4, 2017 for Savvy Authors. You'll find information here about signing up for the class, This class is designed to help people get a handle on writing fight scenes. It will include 12 lessons taught in the month of September on Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays. Students are invited to post sample fight scenes on Tuesdays and Thursdays for my critique. Now, here's the class introduction: 
Introductionby Angela Knight
First I would like to thank you all for taking my class on writing action sequences. This is one of my favorite topics, since there are two types of scenes which I enjoy writing the most: love scenes and fight scenes.This may seem an odd combination, but they have more in common than you might think.  Both are scenes in which two or more people engage in physical contact as an expression of strong emotion.  In one, it’s the love between your hero and heroine, while in the other, it’s the hate between your hero and villain.  But both are the passionate expression of a relationship. The more passion you can bring to each type of scene, the more effective it is.You create that sense of passion through vivid, clear descriptions of both the physical action and the emotions of the characters.For someone who wants a career in genre writing, being able to write a good fight scene may be an even more important skill than the ability to write a good love scene.  There are a number of genres where you may never have to write a love scene at all, such as science fiction, inspirational romance, and mysteries.  Almost all genre fiction requires writers to be able to pen a good fight.  My objective in this class is to share the writing techniques will keep readers on the edge of their seats – and editors begging for more.Classes will be posted on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.  I will also upload the classes to the files section of this group so you can download the completed file to keep.Note I often find that students’ questions raise new issues, and I may decide to do additional classes to address those issues.Here’s a rough list of the lessons I’m currently planning for the class:
IntroductionCharacterization: Handling heroes, heroines and villains in fightsThe importance of motives and high stakes in a fight. Without this, there's no tension.Setting: Choosing the best location for the fight you have in mindChoreography: Planning a fightViolence levels: How to avoid turning the reader offPacing: Escalating the tension through fightsLanguage and description in fightsTypes of combat: The differences and techniques of sword fights, fistfights and gun flightsGenre and fight scenes: How do you create a fight tailor-made for your particular genreClimactic fights: Avoiding an anticlimaxSumming upNow let’s examine the question of why fights are often so difficult to write.I think there are some fairly simple reasons for this.  One is that many of us were brought up to believe that ladies don’t fight.  People get hurt, and they sweat and bleed, and other unpleasant things happen which we would prefer to avoid. We’re supposed to be society’s nuturers.  Violence is the business of men. At the same time, the very definition of the word “hero” implies combat: heroes are people who fight and win, often at great personal cost.  So to show that our hero (and heroine) is heroic, we must show him or her fighting.  Yet for many of us, the last time we were in a physical fight was in grade school.  You’re supposed to write what you know, so how can you write about fighting?  It’s like a nun trying to write a love scene.I have an advantage when it comes to this problem, because I took fencing in college.  It’s been 20 years, but I still remember what it’s like to fence competitively.  I vividly remember the intense concentration, the effort and exhaustion, the desire to avoid pain and to defeat my opponent.  (Getting poked with even a dull foil leaves nasty bruises.)  I've found I can apply that experience to the fights I write.  How much more intense would the experience have been if those swords had points?If you’re serious about writing, you may want to take a martial arts class to give you some idea of what it’s like to fight. But if you can’t take martial arts, there are other alternatives. 
YouTube.com. My go-to these days whenever I need an idea for a fight scene is YouTube. In a book I wrote recently, I had two paranormal characters similar to eagles, who were locked in aerial combat. I obviously know nothing about fighting in the air, so I started watching YouTube nature videos. I discovered that eagles don’t use their beaks when they fight, but lock their talons together and whip in circles around their joined claws as they fall to the ground. The centripetal force rips at them, and the one who gets pulled loose first is the loser. This gave me all sorts of cool ideas. I also researched all kinds of other cool fighting techniques for police officers, soldiers, etc. Give it a shot. Check Hulu or Netflix for films with particularly dazzling choreography. I became a big fan of the Highlander TV series because the sword fights were amazing.  Make lots of use of the pause button to get a feel for the attacks and blocks.You can also find books on various styles of fighting, but it’s harder to get a sense of physical action from a textbook. You need to be able to visualize the fight in order to write it clearly. And clarity can make or break a fight. You don't want to confuse the reader.If you go to a movie and see a fight scene that’s particularly striking, consider sitting through it again.  Analyze what made that scene so exciting.  Can you create similar effects with your writing? A lot of the recent crops of films like Captain America: Civil War and Wonder Woman have featured stunning fights. Atomic Blonde also had some of the most brutal fights I’ve ever seen. I found them particularly striking because periodically the heroine and her opponent would collapse, panting, until they could regain the strength to go at each other again. It made the film seem more realistic and added to the heroine’s sense of peril. Another film I found inspiring was QUANTUM OF SOLACE, one of the 007 series There’s very little dialogue in the Daniel Craig fights, unlike some of the older Bonds.  There’s just a raw savagery that sends your heart into your throat.  It gives you the feeling of what it must be like to fight for your life, to fight to kill.Those scenes also tell a lot about what the film makers are trying to say about Bond as a character.  He’s a ruthless man who doesn’t let fear or pain stop him.  He is powerful, he’s agile, he’s a very skilled fighter.  And he’s insanely brave and dedicated to serving his country.Which brings me to the topic of the next lesson: characterization.  Fight scenes are a great way to reveal the inner truth of your characters. It’s said you never really know what’s inside someone until you see them in danger.  What will they do when their lives are on the line?  Will they fight or run?  Will they risk their lives for the people they love?  A character can talk a good game all he wants, but until he shows what he’s made of, the readers won’t really believe he’s a hero until he proves it.  Too, there is no better way to create sympathy for a character than to show him in pain, in danger, and fighting for his life.

Thanks for reading! I hope you'll join me Sept. 4.
Best,Angela Knight

An Excerpt from Master of Magic, Coming Oct. 17

Dear Reader -- I'm delighted to share a sneak-peak at my newest Mageverse novel, Master of Magic, coming in October, 2017 from Berkley Sensation. Return to New York Times bestselling author Angela Knight’s Mageverse in this never-before-published novella about a man with mysterious abilities and a hidden past—and the woman who must help him decipher his secrets.
Olivia Flynn finds herself on the brink of death, unable to call upon her Sidhe magic, when a handsome stranger rescues her. But this male is no ordinary human, and Olivia wants nothing to do with him. The foreign magic boiling around him is far beyond the power of even the Sidhe.    
Rhys Kincade has never been able to explain his magical abilities. Olivia is the first person he’s encountered who shares his gifts. But before he can ask her about them, they find themselves under attack by a pack of werewolf assassins. An even deadlier threat follows, and the pair is forced to rely on each other as they fight unknown enemies—and an ever-growing attraction between them.

You can pre-order the ebook here:
Amazon         Barnes and Noble     Kobo

Excerpt:  Olivia Flynn shivered as the March wind cut through her thin sweatshirt. The metal park bench she lay on held an icy burn against her side. She drew up her knees, curling more tightly in a futile effort to conserve body heat. It had to be near freezing. Goddess, I've got to get off this bench. But she couldn't.It wasn’t paralysis: she could move her arms and legs. But every time she attempted to rise, it felt as if she were chained there.The cause was obvious. When she looked down her body with her Sidhe senses, sparks of green swirled over her skin. A compulsion spell. Someone had put a geas on her.Why? The thought pounded through her head for the hundredth time since she’d awoken here, like this. Who did this?It didn't feel like Sidhe work. Olivia was no lightweight; she had more than enough power to shield against a compulsion cast by one of her people.  Grimly, she focused her will yet again, trying to unravel the binding. As if angered, it clamped so tight, it burned. She let her head fall back against the bench with a hissed curse.Basically, she was screwed.Shivering, Olivia peered around. She lay in a puddle of light from a nearby streetlamp, one of several along the sidewalk. Directly behind her stood Noodle Monsoon, evidently some kind of Thai restaurant, now closed and dark. On either side of that stood an antique store whose sign read “What’s Old Is New Again,” and a consignment shop called “Southern Notions.” Both appeared to be the kind of mom-and-pop operations found in small towns. She’d lived in in a lot of places like this since fleeing to Mortal Earth.Looking up and down the street, Olivia realized none of the other buildings were taller than three stories. There was no traffic whatsoever, though she could hear the occasional rumble of a car in the distance.Well, Toto, it looks like we’re not in New York anymore. No more arugula dog treats for you.The last thing she could remember was walking out of Bushido, the Manhattan martial arts studio where she took classes. Hikaru Sensei was a spry old fox of a man, surprisingly quick for a human. He was so damn good with a blade, he'd taught her a few tricks even though she'd been studying swordplay for two centuries. And then... ...She woke up here. The goddess alone knew how she’d gone from point A to point B.Impotent anger warmed her. All these centuries she’d sworn she’d never be helpless again. She’d worked her ass off learning how to fight, up to and including using glamour to disguise herself as a man so she could study swordplay. Hell, she’d even gone to war twice, partly out of idealism, but mostly so she could learn courage under fire. All so she’d never again be helpless…The worn rug he lay on was dyed red with blood. A small arm lay flopped over one of his shoulders as if the child had fallen asleep in his arms.And a sword thrust straight up on the other side of him, point buried in the floor. With a shudder, Olivia dragged herself from the memory. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in guilt and grief, or she’d never get off this bench.Teeth chattering, she wrapped her arms around her body and watched her breath curl in front of her eyes in a streaming white plume. Trying to distract herself, she wondered what happened to her parka. She wore only the jeans and sweatshirt she’d had on under it. If I don't break the compulsion soon, I'm going to freeze to death. But she’d been beating her head against that particular concrete wall for the past half hour. Time to try something else. Again. Hadn’t worked the last time, but maybe her efforts had weakened something… Closing her eyes, Olivia drew on the Mageverse – the source of all magic — straining to conjure a jacket, a blanket, hand warmers… Hell, a candle. Anything at all. Nothing happened. She tried again. It went right on not happening. Olivia snarled under her breath. She was going to find whoever laid this geas on her and gut him, her, or it. Assuming she didn't die of hypothermia first.The rumble of an engine approached. She looked around as the car purred down the street toward her, slowing as if to get a look at her.Oh, what now? No, I'm not a hooker. Go away. Though on the other hand, if he let her in that car, at least she'd be warm...Olivia grimaced at her running nose, automatically tried to conjure a tissue, and swore when one didn't appear. With no alternative, she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Maybe it would turn off the would-be john. Or maybe I’d better hope it doesn't.The white Porsche 911 pulled into one of the diagonal parking spaces in front of her bench. Even stopped, it looked as if it was speeding.With my luck, I'm going to have to fight this idiot off. Which would be an issue, since she couldn't even get off the bench. Think positive, Liv. Maybe he’s a good Samaritan.More likely, he’s a serial killer, retorted her inner pessimist. Unfortunately, her inner pessimist had the better track record.Sniffling miserably, Olivia watched as the Porsche's driver's door swung open. Compensating for something, buddy?Then she got a good look at him as he rose to his full height — and knew he damned well had nothing to compensate for. The man seemed to tower in the trench coat that swirled around his long legs as he started toward her. He had the muscle to go with that height too; his shoulders were obviously broad under the coat's fine black leather. Blond hair, cut neat and short, gleamed under the glow of the lamp. She had the impression he was handsome, though it was hard to tell in the harsh shadows the light cast. Then again, Ansgar had been handsome, and look what a murdering bastard he'd been. As if that wasn't alarming enough, her Sidhe senses detected magic radiating from him in a blizzard of blue-white sparks. As he approached, that sense of power grew until she found herself shrinking against the back of the bench in dread. Oh, sweet Goddess, what does he want?She ached to jump up and run, but her body refused to so much as twitch. What was he? Not Sidhe — he had far too much power, much more than Olivia. Not Magekind either. Male Magekind were always vampires, and vamps couldn’t cast spells.If he’d cast the geas, no wonder she couldn't break it. Anger came to Olivia's rescue with another shot of heat and determination. No, dammit, she wasn’t just going to give in to whatever he had in mind. When I said ‘Never again,’ I meant it.She threw all her will, all her magic, against the smothering blanket of the geas, fighting to punch through. Nothing. Shaking, longing to scream in defiance, she stared up at the man as he looked down at her from his considerable height. The light of the streetlamp painted the rise of his cheekbones, the swoop of his nose, the full curve of his lower lip. Shadows modeled the sculptured contours of a square jaw line, while his eyes gleamed in the shadows cast by thick brows. Oddly, there was no trace of malevolence or gloating in his expression. Instead he looked concerned. "Ma'am, are you all right?" His voice held a honeyed southern drawl. "You need me to call 911?" "L…Leave m…m…me a…a...alone." Her teeth chattered so hard, even she could barely understand what she'd just said. He frowned, his obvious concern growing. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just afraid you've got hypothermia." Dropping to one knee, he leaned closer. She had to fight the urge to recoil from his snapping, roiling power. "My name’s Rhys Kincade. What's yours?"She eyed him suspiciously. Why was he trying to act like an ordinary mortal when he was obviously anything but? Still, she’d learn more by talking to him. At the very least it would give her more time to think of a way to save herself. "O…Olivia... F…F...Flynn...Did you... Did you d…do this to me?" She supposed it was possible he hadn’t.Though it was damned unlikely.Rhys drew back, sensual lips tightening with a hint of offended surprise. He studied her, and whatever he saw on her face made his expression warm. "No, I've never seen you before. How'd you get here?” His tone was so compassionate, it pissed her off even more. He scanned the length of her body as if looking for injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere?”Olivia had no intention whatsoever of answering, so she was shocked when the words came out of her mouth anyway. "I d..don't...know." Had to be the geas. Which seemed to confirm he was the one to cast it. "What's the last thing you remember?""Walking out of a d…d...dojo... in New York.""New York? You're in South Carolina now. A town called Pinedale. How’d you get here?” Frowning, he sat back on his heels and shook his head. "We'll figure that out later. Here." Sliding his coat off broad shoulders, he draped it over her, then caught her elbow and lifted her upright. The binding spell seemed to vanish at his touch. It was all Olivia could do not to gasp in relief. Even better, the coat’s silken lining felt deliciously warm and smelled of expensive leather. Whoever he was, he had money. Despite her fearful anger, the heat was an exquisite relief. “T..thank…you.”"You're welcome." Rhys laid one big hand on her shoulder. Magic began to rise. Instinctively, she sought to raise a shield, but again the geas blocked it. It wasn’t broken after all. Dammit.But instead of the attack she expected, precious heat rolled from his palm on a wave of pale sparks. Instantly, Olivia’s shivering stopped and her teeth ceased chattering, though pain stung her hands and feet from returning circulation. Rhys released her. "Is that better?""Yes, thank you." She eyed him warily and shrugged into his coat, biting back a moan of pleasure as she slid her frozen arms into its warm sleeves. Her muscles felt stiff and resentful, but at least they obeyed. The geas had evidently released that much, though it was still forcing her to answer his questions. Had he kidnapped her or not?"Do you know what day it is?" He helped her to her feet.What the hell kind of game he was he playing? Once again, her mouth moved without the intervention of her brain. "March 4th, 2019. It was six p.m. when I left the dojo.""Well, that's the right date, though it's 11:45 right now. I guess it's possible you could've flown here... Or..." His expression closed.The pretense of ignorance was seriously pissing her off. "You think I’m lying?”"Are you?""Would you believe me if I said no?""Actually,” Rhys said thoughtfully, "I think I would." I’m not in the mood for this. "Look, drop the act. Why did you put me under this spell?" With a flick of her fingers, she tried to conjure a magical shield. Nothing. Again."Spell?" Rhys took a cautious step back, broad shoulders tensing. Goddess, he really was big. A good five inches taller than she was -- and she was 5'11" every one of which was hard with muscle. His impressive build was obvious, given he now wore only a thin blue dress shirt that hugged his powerful torso, along with black slacks, a black leather belt and well-shined black shoes. He should be freezing, yet he seemed completely unaware of the cold. He also looked absolutely flabbergasted. "You think I cast a spell on you?” His lips took on a mocking twist. “What have you been smoking?" "You think I’m too stupid to spot a geas while you stand there radiating more magic than Gandalf? What are you, anyway? You're not Sidhe. Dragon?" He had almost enough power to be Dragonkind, but if he was, she was screwed.He laughed. It sounded strained. "Those must be some really good drugs.""I am not high!" Olivia’s hands balled into outraged fists, but she couldn't seem to swing them. It was infuriating. She’d trained for two centuries, yet now she was just as helpless as she’d been last time. "Take a good look, dammit -- it should be obvious I'm not a mortal drug addict. Or is my power beneath your notice?" His eyes narrowed, and he reached out a hand, fingers spread as if to sense her magic. She glared at him, refusing to cower.Rhys recoiled, eyes widening with an emotion that looked like wonder. "Oh." He said it in a soft, yearning voice. "You're like me."

An Excerpt from Master of Seduction

 Chapter One  I'm delighted to share the first chapter of my newest Mageverse novella, Master of Seduction. Look for it in late July from Changeling Press.All her life, Rachel Kent has dreamed of becoming one of the immortal Magekind witches who protect humanity from itself. But first she must prove herself to the handsome vampire whose job is to decide whether she'll become a danger to those she’s supposed to save. Nathaniel Allard is a Court Seducer who has been sent to trigger Rachel’s witchy transformation by making love to her three times. The problem is, gaining such incredible powers may drive Rachel insane, forcing Nathaniel to kill her. Otherwise she may kill him – and anyone else who gets in her way. Nate tells Rachel he’ll only agree to complete her transformation if she proves she can be trusted with the powers she’ll gain. But as he tests her – and makes love to her with every test she passes -- mutual lust turns to love. But will love be enough to save Rachel’s sanity?
Rachel Kent ran flat out, though her ribs ached with every stride, every breath. The Kevlar vest had saved her life two nights before, but the bullet had left a black bruise the size of a silver dollar. Still better than being dead, though.The sun had dipped below the horizon, but it wasn’t entirely dark as she pounded down the two-lane rural road. Shadows gathered in the thick woods on either side of the blacktop, and the sky overhead purpled as the last of the sunlight bled away. Sweat slicked Rachel’s skin, gluing the T-shirt to her heaving ribs and rolling down her legs as her feet jarred on the pavement. Normally she liked to do her running at dawn this time of year, before the July sun left the pavement radiating waves of heat. That wasn’t an option tonight; she needed to exhaust herself. Otherwise she’d lie awake for hours, looking for a way she could have avoided killing Don Gordon.So far, Rachel hadn’t thought of one. Not if she hadn’t wanted to watch him murder his wife and daughters. Yet every she closed her eyes, she heard Emily’s heartbroken scream: "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"Daddy tried to blow your brains out, sweetheart.Again, the moment flashed through her memory: Don turning his gun on his wife as Eileen huddled against the wall, trying to shield their kids. Rachel had been too far from him or his victims to reach either, so she’d stepped between them. It was the first time she’d fired her Glock in the line of duty. The two guns boomed almost simultaneously.The impact of Don’s bullet on her Kevlar vest felt like a baseball bat to the sternum. She’d fallen to one knee, fighting to breathe.When she looked up, Don lay on his back a few feet away, staring up at the ceiling as the life drained from his eyes. The neat hole in the center of his chest barely had time to bleed before his heart stopped.Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!It wasn’t killing Don that bothered her. He was an abusive asshat she’d taken to jail three times in six months. Two of those times, his wife had ended up in the ER. His death had greatly improved his family’s collective life expectancy.No, what bothered her was giving four-year-old Emily a memory she’d never get over.Cut it out, Rachel told herself for the hundredth time. You’re wallowing in it.Unfortunately, the very act of trying to repress the memory strengthened it. She had to get her mind on something else. Even the ache of her chest made a useful distraction. Which was why she was putting in a three-mile run, though pushing so hard with bruised ribs was borderline stupid. Rachel took a left into the apartment complex that had been home for the past three years. Four long buildings stood on either side of the street, sheathed in cream vinyl siding and surrounded by neat green hedges.Breathing hard, she slowed to a walk as she turned into her unit’s parking lot. And stopped to mutter a curse. Two boxy trucks stood in front of the building, each topped by a satellite dish.News vans. Great. Just great.I am not in the mood for this. And not exactly camera ready either, given the sweat that glued her shorts and T-shirt to her skin. Bending over, Rachel braced her hands against her knees and fought to get her breathing under control. Her chestnut ponytail fell against her cheek, damp from the run. She’d be tempted to walk away, but she knew both crews would still be staking out her building when she returned. Besides, Gee would disown her. Kents don’t run from anything, kid. When she thought she could speak without gasping, Rachel straightened and rolled her shoulders back. Ignoring her aching ribs, she headed for the red awning that shaded the building’s door.The news crews stood in a little cluster, chatting in the bored way of people on a stakeout. The videographers caught sight of her and pivoted to aim their cameras in her direction. The reporters went on point like bird dogs, looking downright predatory.Until they got a good look. Judging by their disappointed expressions, she wasn’t who they were expecting. Probably didn’t recognize her from her Sheriff's Office photo. Yeah, let’s see you look that spit-and-polish after running three miles in this heat.But just as she was hoping she could sneak past, the female reporter brightened and stepped into her path. She looked like an ex-Miss South Carolina — blonde, toothy, and two miles of leg. “Deputy Kent? Debbie Rice, WTAY News. People are saying you’re a hero since Amy Gordon’s video went viral. What can you tell us about that night?" With a toothpaste-ad smile, she tilted her mic toward Rachel.Why in the hell did Amy have to live-stream the whole thing on Facebook? Actually, she knew why. The fifteen-year-old thought whipping out her phone would keep Don from beating her mother -- again. Nope."I just did what the taxpayers pay me to do. Excuse me, I need a shower." She pushed past, amused as Rice recoiled from her sweaty, smelly self with a murmur of disgust.Debbie’s big African-American rival wasn’t so easily put off. He shouldered in and stuck his mic in her face. “Darren Mayfield, WACN. Eileen Gordon said you deliberately stepped between them and her husband’s gun. Weren’t you afraid he’d kill you?”“I was wearing a Kevlar vest. They weren’t.”“Which wouldn’t have saved you if he’d shot you in the head.”“No.” She dodged around him and edged a few steps closer to the door.Debbie flashed those teeth and hip-checked Mayfield out of the way. “Would you be willing to grant an interview?"“You’ll need to take that up with the department’s Public Information Officer." She fished in her shorts pocket for her keys."It was obviously a justified shooting. Does it bother you they put you on leave anyway?"“Nope. It’s departmental policy.” The brass didn't really question her actions, but they did think any cop involved in even a justified shooting needed a few sessions with a shrink before going back to work. Given her nightmares, it was probably a good idea. Not that she’d share that little tidbit with this flock of vultures.“Deputy…”Having sidled to the door while they were distracted, Rachel quickly unlocked it, ducked inside, and closed it in their collective faces. Leaning against the door, she breathed out in sheer relief.Someone knocked. “Deputy! Deputy Kent, do you…”Ignoring them, Rachel headed up the two flights of stairs to unlock her apartment door and slip inside……Then damn near jumped out of her skin. “There you are! I was getting ready to send out a search party.” Grinning, the woman sprang up from Rachel’s rust sectional couch. Tall and model-slim, she wore skinny taupe trousers with a pair of black stilettos. A sleeveless black blouse bared lean arms and an inch of flat belly. Honey blond curls tumbled around her shoulders, artfully streaked with paler gold, and her blue-gray eyes gleamed clever in a heart-shaped face.She sure as hell didn’t look like anybody’s great-great-great grandmother. “Hello, Gee.” Despite her exhaustion, Rachel’s smile was genuine. Like the rest of the Kent clan, she adored her witchy ancestor.Ignoring her drying sweat, Oriana Kent swooped in for a hug that smelled of exotic flowers and the ozone tang of lightning. “I’ve missed you, kiddo. You really made me proud. That jerk would have killed his whole family if not for you.”“Thanks.” Something dark caught her attention, and Rachel turned. The man leaned a muscular shoulder against the gas fireplace’s tiny mantle, one dark brow lifted in sardonic amusement. He towered over them both, broad-shouldered in black jeans and a black knit shirt that bared powerful biceps and corded forearms. His sable hair was just long enough to curl, and a goatee framed his erotic mouth, lending a little scruff to the striking contours of his angular face. Somewhere a GQ cover is missing its model, Rachel thought. Then she saw his eyes, and her amusement vanished like a popped soap bubble. His irises shown a brilliant Atlantic blue, dark and cold as a polar sea, assessing and predatory. Oh God, he’s a Magus. An agent of the Magekind. A vampire.When Rachel’s eyes widened in awe, a half smile crooked one corner of his goatee in cynical amusement. “Don’t you think you’d better introduce us, Oriana?”Gee shot him a Mind your manners glare Rachel recognize from childhood. “Ariana, this is Nathan Allard. He’s a Magekind Court Seducer.” Despite her obvious irritation with him, a radiant smile spread over her face. “The Majae’s Counsel has approved your Gifting!”Rachel’s jaw dropped as her eyes darted back to the big man. “Oh. Wow.” Eloquent, Kent. Way to sound like an utter idiot.She tried to come up with something more intelligent, but that the best she could do was a hoarse, “Thank you. Excuse me, I’m just a little… Stunned.” Mechanically, she held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Allard.”Nathan’s hand enveloped hers with long, strong fingers and a warm palm that felt rough with calluses. “Call me Nathan.” His remarkable eyes took on a glint of humor, turning the Arctic to sunlit Caribbean blue. “Court Seducers aren't big on formality.” Rachel blinked up at him, feeling a little dizzy, as if she’d stepped into the middle of a dream. God, I’m supposed to make love to him? “I…can see that.” She swallowed and tried for sophistication. “I’m open to informality.” That sounded a lot less lame in my head.Oriana eyed her, her expression darkening with maternal worry. "Are you all right? You look like hell.""It's been a rough couple of days, Gee.” She forced a smile. "Look, I need to get a shower. I probably smell like a goat.”The Maja lifted a graceful hand, a precursor to one of those sweeping gestures she used to cast spells. "I can fix that."Rachel took an instinctive step back. "Thanks, but I need a minute. I’m a little off balance."“But…”"Let Rachel take her shower." The vampire gave her a long, perceptive stare. "You just don't feel as clean from magic."“Thanks. Give me fifteen minutes." Get your shit together, Kent.“Of course, dear. And after that, Nathan and I will take you to dinner in Avalon."Rachel’s brows shot up. When she’d been a kid, she and her sister and cousins used to beg to visit the magical capital. Their great-great-great grandmother had always turned them down. “Sorry, kids, if I tried to lead a mortal tour group through town, Morgana Le Fay would turn us all into frogs.”This is real. Her eyes flicked to the big vampire, who watched her with a cool intensity that sent a quiver of awareness shooting along her nerves. He’s going Gift me. And he’ll have to sleep with me to do it.She didn’t know whether to feel excitement or stark terror. If it went well, she’d become an immortal witch with fantastic abilities.If it went bad..."Sounds great," Rachel managed, and started down the short hallway into the bedroom.“Wear something loose enough to exercise in.” Nathan’s voice was a dark, seductive rumble she felt low in her belly. “I’m going to put you through your paces.”“Sure,” she said, and escaped, even as she wondered what, exactly, he had in mind. Nathan Allard waited until the shower started running. "I told you we should give her another week to settle down. The first time you have to kill messes with your head." He prowled around the room, examining the furniture and knickknacks. You could learn a lot about someone from the things they surrounded themselves with. As a court seducer, he found that kind of knowledge invaluable in establishing a rapport. Otherwise the job could feel like whoring, regardless of the higher goals it served.Rachel’s apartment was small, no surprise given the salary of a Sheriff’s deputy in Tayunita County, SC. It was also as neat as a monk’s cell, its walls painted eggshell white, with the kind of thin beige carpeting common to apartment complexes. Besides the sectional, the furniture consisted of a square coffee table and a long bookcase, both built of black laminate that suggested she’d bought them at Target. His attention fell on the painting that hung over the sectional. A woman’s arm thrust from the surface of a lake at nightfall, a sword raining magical sparks over the graceful hand that gripped it. A bearded man in plate armor watched, crouching in the water wearing an expression of awe. King Arthur receiving Excalibur from Nimue. Like most Arthurian legend, it was complete bullshit. Rachel obviously knew that, yet she’d bought the painting anyway. Kid must have a romantic streak. He wandered over to the bookcase. Double rows of dogeared paperbacks filled the shelves, wedged into place with trophies from martial arts tournaments or shooting contests. Evidently the girl had a competitive streak to go with the taste for romance— and a hell of a lot of practical training. Oriana had been serious about making sure her descendants could handle themselves in a fight."Speaking of killing people," the witch said tartly, "would you please quit looking at her as if she’s someone you may have to execute?"“She is.” Though God knew he had no desire to do it. Rachel was lovely, with big honey brown eyes under arched chestnut brows, a narrow nose, and a certain cool strength to her oval, high-cheekbones face. She’d pulled her curling dark hair into a messy pony tail. And even in a sweaty blue t-shirt and shorts, her long-legged body and full breasts made his dick sit up and take notice."Merlin’s Gift is not going to drive Rachel insane,” the witch snapped. “She’s too disciplined and intelligent.”“That’s not your call. It’s mine. If I see any indication she isn't suitable, I'm not Gifting her."Oriana’s gray eyes went hard with warning, and her voice took on an icy note. “The Majae’s Council concluded she’s an excellent candidate.”“Yeah, well, the Council doesn't have to deal with the fallout if this goes sideways. Rachel’s going to damn well prove herself before I so much as kiss her."“I don’t deny we've made mistakes, but she’s not one of them.” “It’s not a mistake when somebody dies. It’s a fuck up.” Christine had definitely been a fuckup. And not just the Council’s, either. The ultimate responsibility was his, because he hadn't seen it coming in time to keep his dick out of her.“Gifting Rachel is not a fuck up,” Oriana's said impatiently. “Look, I'm the last one who wants to lose that child.” She rose from the sectional, radiating enough magical menace to lift the hair on the back of his neck. “But if I find out that you refused to Gift her without good reason, you're going to regret it."He gave her glare for glare. "You do what you have to do. And so will I.”###Rachel poured a handful of shampoo into her palm and started washing her hair under the warm, pounding stream of the shower. Her stomach felt tight with a combination of excitement and anxiety. They chose me. I’m going to get Merlin’s Gift. I’m going to become a Maja.She could barely believe it.To most people, Merlin, King Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table were nothing but misty legends from the fifth century. The ancient stories got most of the details wrong, but they all had a kernel of truth.The real Merlin hadn’t been an elderly Druid magician — he’d been an alien from a race of star-faring magic users. Merlin’s people, the Fae, had discovered that most of the galaxy’s intelligent species wiped themselves out through war or ecological disaster. The Fae decided to do something to prevent those mass extinctions. They chose guardians from among each species they encountered, then trained and empowered them to help their people survive. When Merlin came to Earth in 450 AD, King Arthur, his knights and their ladies were among those he tested. Those who passed were permitted to drink from Merlin’s enchanted Grail, which transformed them into Magekind, immortals with fantastic powers. The men became Magi — vampires — and the women, Majae, or witches. Because the spell altered their genetics, they passed it down to their descendants, the Latents. Unfortunately, suddenly gaining such incredible abilities could drive susceptible people insane. To avoid that, the Gift only took effect after being triggered by a member of the Magekind. That gave the agents a chance to vet candidates beforehand. If the spell was never triggered, Latents lived and died as ordinary mortals. Very, very few made the cut.And now I’m one of them, Rachel thought, feeling dazed.Just like Oriana, who’d been one of Sir Percival’s many bastards. The immortal Knights of the Round Table evidently did not practice birth control. Gee had been a Maja for the better part of three hundred years now. A century ago, she’d taken the Mageverse version of maternity leave. In her case, that meant taking twenty-two years off to raise three children on Mortal Earth. You didn't raise mortal kids among the immortals of Avalon: it wasn't good for their mental health.In the decades that followed, Oriana had urged her descendants to seek lives of service even if they were never chosen for the Gift. As result, members of the Kent family had fought in every American war of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. They’d also been police officers, firefighters, doctors and nurses, even government agents. Still, the ultimate Kent goal was to become Magekind. Most of the clan hadn’t never been considered, despite their dedication and hard work. Rachel had no idea why the Majae’s Council had picked her.I need to tell Mom. She’ll be over the moon.And probably scared out of her mind, because if Rachel failed this test, she could end up insane. Worse, she’d have the power to make every lethal impulse reality. Just the thought of it made her feel a little sick.Daddy Daddy Daddy… That’s not helping. Dragging her mind out of the dark spiral that was becoming habit, Rachel hopped out of the shower and toweled off. She hurried to the tiny mirror over the sink, dug out her makeup kit, and went to work on her face. One eye on the clock, she blow-dried her hair, made strategic use of a curling iron, then headed for her bedroom closet.She hadn’t felt this damn nervous staring down the barrel of Don's gun.Nathan had told her to wear something she could work out in. Wonder what kind of workout he has in mind? And does he take requests?Aaaand I’m running out of time.Rachel pulled on a snug red cotton tank over a pair of black leggings, then slid her feet into black flats. Contemplating her reflection, she sighed. Well, at least I don’t look desperate to impress. Of course, she was desperate to impress, but that was beside the point.Firmly squelching her nerves, she walked into the living room to find Oriana fidgeting on the sectional. In contrast to her earlier joy, she looked wired, even a little pissed.The court seducer was on his feet in front of the bookcase, a paperback in one big hand. Glimpsing the cover and finding it all too familiar, Rachel felt her cheeks flame with heat. Vampire Trinity.Great. Juuuust great. He’d discovered her collection of erotic romances. Lately, those books had been as close as she came to getting laid. Without looking up from the book, the vampire said, "You’re three minutes late." Rachel bit back a flustered excuse. She’d known she’d taken too much time on her makeup. "You're right, of course. My apologies.""Don't be an ass, Nathan," Oriana said, as she rose to her feet.At that he looked up, his gaze narrow, a muscle flexing in the corner of his jaw. Ignoring him, Gee made one of those theatrical gestures of hers. The scent of ozone filled the air like smoke.A glowing point appeared in midair, expanding rapidly into a wavering doorway that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Which is basically what it was: a dimensional gate to the magical city of Avalon. "Come on, kiddo," Oriana said, gesturing at the opening. "We’ve got a lot to discuss."“Okay.” Rachel licked her suddenly dry lips, squared her shoulders, and stepped through the gate. As she passed through it, an indescribable sensation rolled over her skin, making every hair on her body rise. The feel of Oriana’s magic. She found herself in a long, arched room floored with Italian marble in shades of umber, gold and cream. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling between thick wooden beams, shedding gold light and glints of rainbow reflections from long crystal pendants. Stain glass windows lined the plaster walls. Glowing in brilliant colors from the house’s exterior spotlights, each depicted a different scene from Arthurian legend. Beautifully upholstered chairs and couches stood in conversational groupings, their oak frames intricately carved and gleaming. “Oh," Rachel breathed, staring around the sitting room in awe. “This is gorgeous!”“Thanks," Oriana strolled through the gate, Nathan following her like a dark shadow. "It's not as grand as some, but it's not exactly a single-wide either.”“That’s putting it mildly.” Rachel moved to study a figurine of a woman in armor standing on a side table. It appeared to be solid gold. “This looks like something from an art museum.”"Oriana is a magpie," Nathan observed dryly. "If it's shiny, she swoops down on it and carries it off to her nest." "Better than living in an armory like that pile of yours," Oriana told him.These two knew each other. Knew each other well. And why does that thought make me feel a little jealous? Rachel wondered. And am I jealous of his friendship with her – or hers with him?"Come along, dear." Gee headed for a doorway at the other end of the room. "I was cooking all afternoon. I want to celebrate.""You cook?” Rachel followed her down a corridor lined with paintings. One of them looked suspiciously like a Michelangelo. “I figured you just conjured.”“Oriana is considered one of the best cooks among the Magekind.”Rachel dared a mischievous smile at him. “How would you know? Vampires don’t eat.”He grinned with such charm that she blinked. “I’ve heard rumors.”Rachel expected the dining room to look like something out of Beauty and the Beast, but it turned out to be more intimate than that, with a table designed for eight rather than eighty. Even so, it fairly groaned under the weight of a feast of Thanksgiving proportions. Among the dishes were several of her favorites, all steaming gently. "It looks delicious, Gee." But probably wasted. She doubted she’d be able to eat a bite with her stomach coiled its current nervous knot. Moving with the automatic courtesy of another age, Nathan moved to pull out the chair at the head of the table for Gee. Rachel waited for him to seat her too, knowing Oriana’s attitudes about gentlemen and ladies. Otherwise she’d be in for an etiquette lecture.Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t the only thing Gee had taught her.But when the vampire stepped up behind Rachel, a ripple of pure sensual awareness rolled down her spine. There was something about all that alpha male presence that just did something to her. Part of her wasn’t sure she liked it. Another liked it entirely too much.Rachel sat, then watched him stride to the place opposite hers, his big body moving with a fluid, athletic ease. As Oriana began pointing out the dishes, Nathan picked up the elegant bottle that sat by his elbow, plucked out the cork without the use of a bottle opener, and poured something dark red into a cut crystal glass. It didn’t look like wine. “What’s that?”He gave her a dark smile. “You wouldn’t like it. It’s a very nice Chateau Oriana.” When Rachel frowned in confusion, Gee explained dryly, “My blood. I bottle it magically for vampire guests.”Okaaay. Though she supposed it made sense. Oriana had told her Majae needed to donate their blood as badly as Magi needed to drink it. Otherwise their blood pressure would shoot too high, and they could suffer strokes, even fatal aneurisms. Apparently Merlin had designed the two Magekind sexes to be interdependent. As Nathan took another sip, Rachel’s gaze fell to his big. scarred hands. Interesting, those scars. They must date back to his life before he become a vampire; any injuries suffered afterwards would have long since healed. His gaze flicked up, apparently noticing her interest in the pale lines. "I was a professional duelist when I was mortal, back during the Renaissance. Even with gloves, the hands take a beating."“That was a job?"He shook his head. "Don’t they educate kids at all anymore?"Stung, Rachel worked to hide her irritation. “Actually, I did well in history.”Oriana looked up from filling her plate with thin slices of rare beef. “Nate, if you don't quit being an ass, you’re going to find yourself with really long ears.”"And deprive Rachel of my tongue?" He arched a sardonic eyebrow."He's not usually like this," Oriana told her, eyeing him with disfavor. "I don't know what his problem is, but if he doesn't solve it, he’s going to find himself looking like a cast member from A Midsummer Night’s Dream."“That was a play,” he explained to Rachel, his tone elaborately helpful.“Now that you mention it,” Rachel said through her teeth, “there is a certain resemblance between him and Nick Bottom.""Ah, she does read." His lips curled up. "Something other than Vampire Trinity."Rachel stiffened as her temper went up in flames. Enough’s enough. “Look," she growled. "I may have to fuck you, but that doesn’t give you the right to abuse me."There went that dark brow again. “Given your taste in reading material, I’d think you’d like that.”She studied him in baffled fury. “Are you trying to goad me?”“And I seem to be succeeding, not that it’s taking much effort.” He sat back in his chair, hooking a muscled arm over the back of it. “For future reference, Majae need better self-control. You don’t want to kill someone because you lost your temper.”“I’ve been a cop for three years. I’ve dealt with more than my share of drunks, idiots, and assholes, all of whom thought I was fair game just for being both a cop and a woman. My self-control is fine.”“Three whole years. My. That many?” Which was when Rachel remembered he was four hundred years old. She clamped her teeth shut, realizing he was right — she had lost control. She usually maintained a tighter grip over herself. “Keep it up, Nate, and you’ll be braying to go along with the ears,” Oriana told him, thoroughly irritated.The vampire ignored her. “Let’s get one thing straight.” He rose to his feet and leaned across the table until their faces were inches apart. His eyes snapped blue flame. "I don’t have to fuck you. I'm not going to give you the Gift until I'm convinced you can use the power wisely. And at the moment, I'm not impressed." "That's. Enough." Oriana snapped. "You are not the only Court Seducer in Avalon. If you consider the job so distasteful, I’ll find someone else.""You didn't give me this assignment, Oriana. Arthur did. And he's the only one who can take me off it. I accepted it, and I’m going to use my best judgment whether you like it or not."“Nate, we need her.” Oriana’s voice took on a pleading note. “The Council’s conclusion was that she’ll make an excellent agent. She can be trusted.”“I’m sure she would make a good agent. But the question is, can she survive the Gift?” He turned to Rachel, who sat frozen, wondering exactly when the conversation had gone to hell. “Look, I don’t doubt you're a good kid. You've got guts. You proved that when you stepped between Gordon’s bullet and his daughters. But it doesn't matter how good you are if the Gift burns out your sanity. If it does, it’ll be my job to put you down like a rabid dog. Are you sure the risk is worth it?" Rachel stared up at him. "I…" She broke off, not sure what to say. The fact was, he had a point."Yeah, think about it. You need to think about it hard. Because even if the Gift doesn't go bad on you, that's not going to be the end of it. You're going to end up fighting and killing. You're going to end up watching everyone you love die. Not just your mother and father, but your sister and your nieces and your nephews.""I… don't have any nieces and nephews.""You will. And if you have kids, you’ll watch them die too, if they’re not chosen to get the Gift. I lost four of mine to old age, three others to smallpox, two to cholera and one to murder. Why do you think Oriana's so determined to secure immortality for one of her children’s descendants? Because all her kids died and you’re all that’s left of them. That's a wound that never heals." "Yes, I’ll admit that’s a factor,” Oriana told Rachel in a low, intense voice, “But it’s also true that you're needed. Morgana Le Fay and Gwen both have had visions, and they agree there's something nasty on the way. Something every bit as bad as Warlock or the Dark Ones, or any of the other bastards we fought in the last decade." There was something so desperate, so ruthless in Gee’s normally warm gaze, Rachel felt a chill. "That's why we're recruiting. Magekind agents are going to die, and the world trembles on the edge of chaos. You can make a difference in this fight.""Maybe," Nathan said softly. "Or maybe you'll end up cannon fodder. Maybe you'll just end up going insane, and I’ll have to put you down. Make damn sure you want to risk both possibilities before you say yes."Rachel stared into his hard gaze. Against her will, her gaze flicked down to the sensual curve of his lips. An acute awareness flooded her senses of his height, his broad shoulders, those big scarred hands. What would it be like to make love to him?No, not make love. He was a Court Seducer. Screwing women into the Gift was what he did. This will never lead anywhere or mean anything to him. It’s just a fuck. Rachel raised her chin at him. "If I wanted to live forever, I wouldn't have stepped in front of a bullet two days ago." She turned to Oriana. “I've never wanted to be anything but Magekind. Not for the power, not for the immortality -- to make a difference. Lately it feels like this entire damn planet is balanced on a knife blade over hell. If I can help stave off the fall, that's a chance worth taking."Nathan sat back in his chair with a grunt of disgust. "Jesu, you did a good job brainwashing this kid."Oriana snorted. “You know, the asshole act would be more convincing if you hadn’t spent the past four centuries trying to save the world." He shrugged. “Yeah, well, it needed saving.”

Here's an excerpt from Arcane Kiss, my latest novel.

Alone, veteran Kurt Briggs is no match for the Arcane terrorists who threaten the nation's leadership. He needs Arcanist Genevieve Reyes by his side. But when shared danger leads to shared desires, the consequences could be deadly for them both.

Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman abilities, but when his father is murdered, the military veteran becomes a target for terrorist sorcerers. Alone, Kurt finds he's no match for the witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist Genevieve Reyes for help in fighting the killers' spells.

As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared desire. But they soon realize Kurt's passion for Gen weakens his control over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Genevieve is attracted to Kurt's animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much danger from his tiger as she is from the terrorists.

Then they learn the terrorists plan to sacrifice Kurt to power a horrific spell designed to decimate the U.S. government. Even if Kurt and Gen manage to stop the terrorists, their evil sorcery may trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with magical Talent -- including Kurt and Genevieve. In the following scene, Kurt meets his best friend, an old military buddy, in a bar.
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He wound his way across the room to order an Arcane Ale at the bar. Accepting the icy bottle the bartender handed over, Kurt turned to find Jake Nolan watching him from one of the booths. When the other man tilted his own bottle in salute, he headed over.
The Feral cop wasn’t a tall man, but he was built like a bull, with broad shoulders and powerful biceps. Jake wore his hair in a blond brush cut that made his broad features look even tougher and more uncompromising. His eyes glowed in the bar’s dim lighting, shining with his link to his lion Familiar, Clarence.
“Yo.” Jake’s Mellow Microbrew was evidently doing its job -- he looked relaxed. Being off-duty, he’d changed out of his black uniform in favor of his usual geek gear: worn black jeans and a Deadpool T-shirt. It wasn’t at all surprising that Jake’s favorite superhero was basically a cross between Rambo and Bugs Bunny.
So was Jake.
Kurt slid into the booth. “So how was today’s fight for truth, justice and chimichangas?”
“The usual. Encounters with assholes and idiots and idiotic assholes, and one or two hapless innocent bystanders.” Jake studied him shrewdly. “You ain’t happy.”
“I did notice that.”
“You want to tell me about it, or just glower?”
Kurt shrugged, only to discover that he did indeed want to vent. “Oh, you know, the usual. I showed an interest in a woman who wasn’t a Feral…”
“And your Dad lost his shit.”
“Nah, just booked me a flight on Guilt Air.”
“Travelocity’s got nothing on Fred. Who inspired this particular round trip?”
“You know that Arc who volunteered to help Parvati?”
At that, Jake straightened. “Wait, you’re interested in a witch? Shit, I’ll bet Fred did yark up a hairball.”
“Actually, it was only about the size of a ping pong ball.”
“As opposed to the Great Watermelon of 2015.”
“He just warned me about ruining a good thing with somebody who could heal our cats.”
Jake considered that, sipping his beer. “You do have a lot of old, sick kitties at BFS. What you don’t have is a great track record when it comes to women.”
Kurt eyed his very single friend. “So why aren’t you home with your wife and kids?”
Jake flipped him off. “About this witch Juliet of yours…”
“Genevieve.”
“Whatever. What’s she like?”
“Well, she heals sick children and dying cats pro bono…”
“Which is cool and all, but is she hot?”
“She’s…” Kurt broke off, struggling to put his reaction into words.
Jake sat back, impressed. “Sizzling, huh?”
“Yeah, and I’m not even sure why.”
“Nice rack maybe?”
“Even you’re not that shallow.”
“I certainly am -- I have a dick. And since you do too, you ain’t exactly a deep-sea diver yourself.”
“You have a point.”
“So? Give.”
“Hell, I don’t know. Big blue eyes and an incredible amount of red hair all…” He made a gesture around his shoulders. “Curly.”
“You’ve got my attention.”
“And yeah, nice rack. But what got me…” He fell silent for a moment, trying to puzzle it out. “While she was drawing Parvati, her magic… I never felt anything like it. It was intense.”
Jake studied him. “We’ve worked with a lot of Arcs, but I don’t remember you reacting like this to any of them.”
Kurt turned his beer bottle between his fingers, listening to it scrape over the tabletop. “The Arcs in the service -- their magic was about death, about booby traps and demolition spells. Her magic feels like life. Something about it just made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Even Stoli felt it. He was almost purring.”
“Tigers don’t purr.”
“Neither do people, but I was doing it too.” He paused, considering. “I’m going to ask her out.”
“I see a watermelon in your future.”
“Dad needs to remember he’s not me. And every woman I meet is definitely not Mom.”
“Big talk, but I haven’t noticed you rushing to the altar.”
Kurt shrugged. “None of them have been right.”
“That why you haven’t even tried in the last six months?”
“And when did you last get laid?”
“Wednesday. Brunette. Great tits. Likes to be tied up and spanked. I’m planning to introduce her to nipple clamps next.”
“Pervert.”
“You’re one to talk.” Jake grinned, slow and nasty, a sure indicator he was about to give Kurt hell. “If you decide not to grow a pair, I think I’ll go make introductions with Witchy Woman myself. I don’t have anything against Arcs. Maybe I’ll even give her a spanking.”
A surge of possessive anger took Kurt by surprise. As he wrestled it, a distinct scritch sounded over the laughter and chatter of the clientele. His fingertips vibrated. He looked down and saw glowing claws tipping his fingers, digging into the table. Startled, Kurt jerked his hand back and willed the claws away.
When he looked up, Jake was sitting back in the booth, giving him a long, considering look. “She did get under your skin didn’t she? No wonder your dad freaked. How’d she get Stoli going so fast? It’s not as if she’s his type.”
“That wasn’t him, Jake. That was me.” He tapped his now clawless fingertips on his beer bottle, frowning. “Maybe I should keep my distance. If she’s already making me pop claws when I haven’t even asked her out yet…”
“Jesus, don’t give up before you even try.”
“It can get ugly when Ferals lose control.”
“Yeah.” Jake’s mouth took on a bitter twist. “Just look what happened to my brother.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
“It’s what you were thinking.”
“You read minds now?”
“No, but I do know there’s a difference between being careful and being in suspended animation. Risk the watermelon and ask the girl out.” Jake gave him a long, serious stare. “Otherwise, the only pussy you’re ever going to get is Stoli.” 

A scene from Arcane Kiss

Here's another excerpt from Arcane Kiss.

Alone, veteran Kurt Briggs is no match for the Arcane terrorists who threaten the nation's leadership. He needs Arcanist Genevieve Reyes by his side. But when shared danger leads to shared desires, the consequences could be deadly for them both. In this scene, Kurt and Genevieve make love for the first time. Kurt has just melded with the spirit of a tiger, which is eroding his normal self-control. He's worried he could endanger Gen, who has just had a nightmare about his losing control.   Amazon -- Barnes and Noble -- Kobo 
She sighed. “It was just a nightmare, Kurt. It didn’t mean anything.” “There’s fear in your scent.” “It was just a bad dream.” He sank back on the couch and rubbed his eyes with one hand. In his own dream, he’d been the one to trip the Arc’s booby trap in that cave. He’d been the one to go mad when someone bumped him from behind, reacting in blind animal rage. Except it hadn’t been Dave he’d killed. It had been Genevieve. I’ve got to get out of here before I do something really stupid. Like kiss her again. Kurt dropped his hand, shoulders slumping. “I don’t blame you for being afraid, especially after the way I acted tonight. Look, I’m going back to…” Gen touched him, shutting him up in mid-word. Her silken fingers curled along his cheek. “I’m not afraid.” Her blue eyes gazed into his, vivid and steady. “You didn’t lose control, Kurt. Your father was just murdered, but you still held on. You didn’t hurt anybody. I’m not sure I could have said the same if somebody’d killed my dad.” He inhaled sharply. Her scent flooded his head, and he realized she meant it. The acridity was gone, leaving only her personal scent, all magical ozone and Genevieve. But if the fear had faded, the need had not. It still rolled from her, smoky and tempting as incense. “I’m not afraid,” she repeated softly. “You were.” “I had a bad dream. It’s been that kind of night. But if you were really going to lose control, you’d have done it in the arena when your dad died. If you didn’t then, I don’t think you’re going to.” Kurt closed his eyes, fighting temptation, and saw her magic glowing behind his lids. It wasn’t just gold like his, but a hundred other shades, colors chasing each other across her aura like the aurora borealis. The glowing woman leaned toward him. His eyes flew wide as Genevieve kissed him. It might have been their third kiss of the night, but it didn’t feel like either of the others. Those had been kisses of desperation, of grief, of pain and sympathy. This was a gentle exploration of a kiss, slow and soft. Her tongue slipped into his mouth in a teasing lick that burned smoky with bourbon. Kurt closed his lips and suckled her gently, tasting her with senses both feline and human. Her lips brushed back and forth across his in slow seduction. He returned the swirling stroke of her tongue, sliding his own into her mouth, tilting his head as he explored her. At last she eased back from him. Kurt stared at her, fighting the need that burned hot in his groin, his and Stoli’s desire flaring like gasoline teased with a torch. Cool little fingers touched his hand and took the glass away. Leaning forward, she put both their empty glasses on the coffee table with a clink. His eyes caught on the sinuous curve of her back, leading down to the swell of her ass. Genevieve turned back to him, and he took her in his arms. She felt perfect, skin soft and smooth and lush. That image flashed through his mind: Gen on her hands and knees. Stoli wanted her to pull her under him, but he refused. Not after the fear I saw in her eyes. I am not going to scare this woman again. He was going to make love to her. Despite common sense, despite his better judgment, he wanted her. Needed her. Craved her. But he wasn’t an animal. He eased back and looked deep in those cornflower eyes. “You trust me. But do you want me?” She caught his shoulders in both hands and pushed him back against the couch, then slung a leg astride his lap. “Yes.” Kurt stiffened… in more than one sense of the word. His cock leaped as her soft weight came down on his thighs. She felt so delicious, he groaned. Gen covered his mouth with hers and drank the sound, kissing him harder this time, demanding, tongue swirling around his. Closing his eyes, he watched her glow as the heat in his veins blazed. She stroked him as she kissed him, tracing the cords of his throat, the thick muscle of biceps and shoulders. He cupped the rise of her hips, slid one palm up to the dip of her narrow waist. Pushing up the hem of her shirt, he found bare skin, warm and smooth and soft under his fingertips. Stoli rumbled, and Kurt had to suppress a magical echo. He had no intention of killing this mood with a growl, even a growl of hunger. Especially a growl of hunger. “Are you sure this is what you want? Because I’ll go if you’re not.” She pulled back just enough to glare. “Don’t you dare.” Sharp little nails dug into his chest. “All right, all right!” Laughing, he reached up to cup her breast. Soft. God, she was so incredibly soft. The smooth, warm curve filled his hand with pure erotic delight. He groaned. So did she. He caressed her gently, squeezed, stroked. Found the stiff little nipples that had been driving him crazy since she’d walked into the room. Made them even stiffer with gentle tugs between thumb and forefinger. Genevieve pulled away from his mouth and let her head tilt back, eyes slipping closed. “I do love a man with talent.” “Thank you.” He pulled the top up, revealing both lovely breasts. With pleasure, he saw her nipples were a luscious candy pink, furled tight in arousal. “See what you think of this…” Leaning forward, he closed his mouth around one delightful bud. The taste of her was more intoxicating than the bourbon, sending fire roaring along his veins like a flame following a trail of gasoline. A cool low voice that sounded like his father said, This is a really bad idea.He ignored it.
Thanks!Angela Knight  

Arcane Kiss is out!

I'm delighted to announce the publication of my newest full-length, novel, Arcane Kiss, the first book in the Talents series.
It's up for sale here: (Note that I will add the other links as they go online.) I plan to add a paperback as well.
Amazon -- Barnes and Noble -- Kobo 
By the way, I'm going to be holding a launch party on Facebook Monday, Jan 30, 8-11 p.m. EST. I'll be giving away a Kindle Fire, Amazon gift certificates, and  books by some dear friends. Please drop by to win! 8-8:30pm EST- Cree Storm Book Series
8:30-9pm EST- P.T. Macias
9-9:30pm EST- Mary Morgan
9:30-10pm EST- LaVerne Thompson
10-10:30pm EST- M.A. Abraham
10:30-11pm EST- Author Trina M. Lee
11-11:20pm EST- Amelia Hutchins
11:20-11:40pm EST- Angela KnightTime Zone Calculator (To figure out the time in your area)
 
Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman abilities, but when his father is murdered, the military veteran becomes a target for terrorist sorcerers. Alone, Kurt finds he's no match for the witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist Genevieve Reyes for help in fighting the killers' spells.
As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared desire. But they soon realize Kurt's passion for Gen weakens his control over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Genevieve is attracted to Kurt's animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much danger from his tiger as she is from the terrorists.
Then they learn the terrorists plan to sacrifice Kurt to power a horrific spell designed to decimate the U.S. government. Even if Kurt and Gen manage to stop the terrorists, their evil sorcery may trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with magical Talent -- including Kurt and Genevieve.

Becoming one with a big cat did not automatically make you crazy. After all, Fred had been melded with his lion for twenty years since the animal’s death, but there was no indication he’d had any problems with self-control. Given what an extremely public person he’d been, there would have been rumors if he’d ever lost it. But Kurt’s meld was too fresh, leaving him vulnerable to his tiger’s instincts. If she followed up on this attraction, he could easily become even more dangerously possessive -- as male cats tended to be. Considering he’d already come close to attacking both Sawyer and Jake… “No! Goddamn you, you bastard!” Feet thudded to the floor, accompanied by a snarl that had not come from a human throat. Genevieve froze, staring at the wall opposite the bed, her heart thundering. The bear. Had the bear assassin broken in and attacked Kurt? For a long moment, she heard nothing more than her own ragged panting. “You fucking idiot,” Kurt’s voice growled. She strained her ears, but seconds ticked by in ringing silence. Her shoulders slumped in relief and she settled back against the headboard, swinging her legs up. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d had bad dreams. Though his would probably have been even worse. At least hers hadn’t featured her father’s murder. A door opened and closed in the hallway, and the floor creaked as he walked past her door and started down the stairs. I need to go back to bed. But what she really wanted was to follow him down the stairs. Dumbass. Didn’t we just go through that? Getting involved with the magical were-tiger is not a good idea. But there’d been such defeated pain in that “You fucking idiot.” “He’s not the only one,” she growled, and rolled out of bed. She’d worn her turquoise top to bed, so she put on her shorts and padded barefoot out into the hall. Gen was midway down the stairs when Kurt looked out at her from one of the downstairs rooms. “Sorry I woke you. Everything’s fine. You can go back to bed.” But everything wasn’t fine. He looked haggard, his handsome face drawn under disheveled dark hair that looked as if he’d been raking his fingers through it. He was shirtless, his glorious chest bare. She tried to ignore the view. “Actually, I was already awake. Had a nightmare.” “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around. You want something to drink? Dad’s bourbon is really…” He broke off. His expression twisted before going controlled again. “… good.” “Sure.” As she followed him into the parlor, she thought, I am such a moron. If the house was Victorian, its decor was not. An oxblood leather sectional couch faced a flat screen television on an entertainment center. On shelves beneath that sat a satellite box and a video game console with a pair of controllers. At the opposite end of the room, a gas fireplace had replaced one that had obviously once burned wood. But it was the walls that caught her attention. They were covered in photos of lions, tigers, jaguars, pumas, leopards, lynxes -- all kinds of cats, including species she didn’t even know the names for. Compelled, Genevieve walked over to the nearest of them, a lion with bright Feral gold eyes. Judging by the skillful composition and quality of the print, it was obviously professional work. “These must have set Fred back some serious cash.” “Actually, no. Dad was an amateur photographer. Did photos of every cat BFS ever housed. There’ve been a lot of them over the past twenty years.” He moved closer. “That’s Lahr, Dad’s lion. He’s the one you see in the BFS logo.” She looked around at him. “Lahr?” “As in Bert Lahr, the actor that played the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz.” He grinned. “Which was something of a joke. Lahr loved a good fight. He had a roar that could vibrate the paint off a wall.” “Sounds intimidating.” “Yeah, but deep down, he was a softy. Especially with me. He’s the reason I was so determined to join the Corps and get my own cat. I loved him.” His smile faded. “Mom, not so much.” “Your mom didn’t like him?” “Mom hated him. I think she was actually glad when he died -- testicular cancer. It wrecked Dad and me. I was ten.” “I’m so sorry.” Her gaze drifted back to the lion’s hypnotic gaze. There was more than an animal’s intelligence in that intense stare. “Your father had real talent.” “He loved his subjects. That always helps.” Kurt moved over to a walnut bar that ran beside the television and poured himself a glass of something amber from a cut-glass decanter. “Want any? Aged Kentucky bourbon. Dad loves… loved the stuff.” “Sure.” Maybe it would help her get back to sleep. As he filled a second glass, she asked, “Where’s Dave?” “Took the first watch. He’s probably skulking in the bushes outside the house.” “Is that safe? I mean, between witches and polar bears…” His mouth pulled into a flat line as he handed her the glass. “We fought a war, Gen. We know how not to be seen.” He nodded toward the sectional, and she followed him over to it to sit down. “What did you dream about?” Genevieve froze. And knew by the heat in her cheeks that she was blushing. Kurt blinked and looked startled. His nostrils flared. Almost like an animal scenting… He looked quickly away, downing a deep swallow of his bourbon. I need to get my ass back to bed. Instead she took a sip of the bourbon. Liquid fire detonated in her mouth, smoky and dark. It burned all the way down. She coughed, acutely aware of him, sitting bare-chested and handsome in the light of the single lamp he’d turned on. God, that chest. I’d love to paint him. It wasn’t the first time tonight she’d had that thought. But then she hadn’t known what a bad idea it was. He almost lost it twice tonight. Only an idiot would go for three. She forced herself to look away. But a moment later her gaze drifted back to dwell on the ridged muscle of Kurt’s flat abdomen and broad chest. His biceps flexed as he lifted his glass for another sip. Heat rolled through her, and she swallowed. Bad idea. Really, really bad. Really.

Thank you so much for stopping by. I hope you enjoy Arcane Kiss! 

An excerpt from my new book, Arcane Kiss

Dear Reader –I wanted to share an excerpt from my new self-published book, Arcane Kiss, the first in a paranormal romance series called TALENTS.When his father is murdered, a military veteran becomes a target for terrorist sorcerers. Kurt Briggs has a spirit link to a tiger Familiar that gives him superhuman abilities, but he’s no match for the witch and her shape-shifting polar bear. He turns to Arcanist witch Genevieve Reyes for help in fighting the killers’ spells. As Genevieve and Kurt hunt the terrorists, shared danger leads to shared desire. But they soon realize Kurt’s passion for Gen weakens his control over his cat. The consequences could be deadly for them both. Adding to the risk is Kurt’s memory of the way his mother turned her magic against him. Will Gen, too, betray him?Genevieve is attracted to Kurt’s animal sensuality, but she knows she may be in as much danger from his tiger as the terrorists. Then they learn the terrorists plan to sacrifice Kurt to power a horrific spell designed to decimate the U.S. government. Even if the couple manages to stop them, the killers’ plot may trigger a witch hunt that could mean the destruction of everyone with magical Talent – including Kurt and Genevieve.  The book is available for preorder from Amazon.com, with a release date of Jan. 29, 2017. It’s a full-length novel with a price of $4.99.The book will also be available at iBooks, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and ARe. I'm not currently planning a print version, though plans may change if it does well.In this excerpt, Genevieve tries help Kurt regain control of his tiger after the murder of his father. The other characters are friends of Kurt’s, Deputy Jake Nolan and a Arcane Corps veteran named Dave Frost, who is trapped in the body of a tiger.
Excerpt from Arcane Kiss
The roar rolled out over the park, a shattered cry of fury and grief. It seemed to stab right past Genevieve's twenty-first century intelligence to her inner small mammal. She jolted to a stop -- and found herself staring at a sign reading "BFS Educational Arena."Spotting an open gate through the octagonal fence, Gen ran through it. And stopped dead, staring in sick horror. Kurt knelt beside a body lying crumpled in a pool of blood. Dave stood beside him, his ears flat, his golden eyes too wide.Oh, crap."You bastards!" Kurt leaped to his feet, head thrown back, screaming into the night, voice vibrating, sounding more animal than human, his magic reverberating through the air around him. "I'm going to fuckin' kill you!" His tiger manifested in a golden explosion, forming a glowing shell of magic.Ice slid through Genevieve's blood. Arcane Corps brat that she was, she knew what happened when they lost control. Oh, God, he's going to kill somebody. Gen wasn't the only one who was freaked out. Dave tensed, though whether he was going to run or do something to stop his friend, she had no idea. A blond man in a Deadpool t-shirt stood on the other side of the cat, watching Kurt as though he expected to be attacked. There was a gun in his hand.Kurt roared again, his tiger's rearing shell surrounding him, balanced weightlessly on its hind legs in a way that would have been impossible for a flesh and blood animal. She had to do something or that blond guy was going to have to kill him. "Kurt!" Even as she started toward him, Gen realized what a monumentally bad idea this was. She kept going anyway. It was too easy to imagine how she'd feel if Dad had been sacrificed in an Arcanist spell. "Kurt... I’m so sorry about your dad.""Lady, what are you doing? Get back." The blond man's gaze flicked to her, and he brought the gun up, aiming it at Kurt. He spoke in the dead flat tone of a man whose world had exploded as he desperately tried to contain the fallout. "Get out of here." Dave slunk toward her, his gaze on Kurt's. "Genevieve, get away. He's out of control. He could hurt you.""No, he won't." Her gaze locked on Kurt, silhouetted against the blaze of his manifestation. She reached out to him, using her own power to brush his aura. His grief slammed into her consciousness in a battering wave. The impact of it rocked her back on her heels. Pain. He's in so much pain.... "Kurt's tiger is dead," the blond man said in a carefully controlled voice. "I think he's trapped in a feedback loop."He was talking about what happened during a major psychic trauma, when the Familiar's emotions amplified the human's, which strengthened the Familiar's, which strengthened the human's...On and on until the Feral lost all control. Ferals caught in feedback loops had been known to kill their own teammates, even their own families. Oh, hell. We're screwed. And yet...Sometimes she could touch another's aura, reduce the pain, as she'd done for Parvati. She might be able to help him too. There wasn't time to draw the kind of intricate spell that would force him to calm down, but if she could reduce his pain enough, he could regain control.Of course, if it doesn't work, he may kill me.Licking dry lips, Genevieve moved slowly forward, sketching sigils in the air to focus her magic on what she wanted to do. Extending her hands, she sent her aura sliding over his in a gentle brush. "Kurt? I can help you if you’ll let me. I can help you control it." The big man's eyes glowed from the burning mask of his tiger. The manifestation's mouth opened, displaying mystical teeth that could rip into her skin every bit as efficiently as the physical version. "Genevieve?" The voice sounded inhuman, reverberating as it did with his power. "He's dead, Genevieve. Dad's dead.""I know, Kurt.""Lady, back off!" Deadpool Shirt started toward her. Judging from the glow of his eyes, he was a Feral too.Kurt's gaze whipped to him, hot and direct with aggression. He growled, the sound so deep it was almost subsonic.The man swallowed, but kept coming, broad shoulders tensed to fight. "This is that girl, Genevieve? The witch you like, right?""Mine!" Kurt sprang, covering ten feet in an impossible leap as his magic drove his human body forward. Genevieve yelped, startled. His arms snapped around her like a trap clamping shut, and he jerked her against his side. Gen found herself looking out at the world through the glowing tiger mask. Crap!In a blur, Deadpool Shirt shifted his aim to follow his friend. "Kurt, stop. Don't hurt her. Don't make me shoot you.""No!" Dave snapped, a rumbling growl rolling beneath the words. "Holster that thing before you really set him off.""I'm not... Going to hurt her..." Kurt ground."Step away!" "No." He bared his teeth, and the huge fangs of his manifestation echoed the expression. "She's mine, Jake!" "Kurt, you don't even know her! That's your cat talking. Let her go!""It's all right," Genevieve said, touching the powerful arm around her waist to draw his attention. He felt like Michelangelo's David cast in heated steel. Kurt met her gaze, his face limned in the glow of his manifestation. She'd have thought him handsome ordinarily, with those glowing tiger eyes and angular warrior's face. But the mouth that should have looked sensual twisted in pain and despair, and her heart ached for him. "No, it's not." He sounded so inhuman, she felt a fresh spurt of fear. "It can't get any more not 'all right.'""It can if you hurt her." The muzzle of Jake's pistol tracked him steadily, but there was anguish in the Feral's eyes. "Don't threaten me. This is my place. She's mine." Kurt tensed, focusing on his friend with the alien gaze of a cat on the edge of exploding into violence. I've got to talk him down, or we're all screwed. "Look at me, Kurt." She looked up at him, curling her aura against his, using it as a brake against the furious churn of his power. "They're not going to hurt me, and neither are you."He stared at her, nothing at all human in those golden Feral eyes. 
Thanks for reading this. I hope you'll enjoy it1Best,Angela Knight

Paladin's Out!

 My first self-published ebook, Paladin, Book 1 of the Graven Gods series, is in stores.


Barnes and Noble Amazon Kobo ARe
The only constant in Summer St. Clare's life is Paladin, the fictional hero who's becoming more real with every kiss.

Struggling novelist Summer St. Clare can't remember her murdered mother's face, or most of her childhood before the age of twelve. The only constant in her life is Paladin, once her imaginary childhood friend, now the handsome detective of her urban fantasy series.

There's nothing imaginary about Paladin now. Hot, seductive and dangerous, Paladin blurs the line between fantasy and reality. The passion Summer experiences in his arms makes her question what's real -- or whether she cares.

Someone else believes in Paladin, and he wants Summer dead. Her confusion mounts when she fights off five attackers with a display of dazzling martial arts skills she doesn't remember acquiring. As she searches for answers and runs for her life, her dream lover becomes more real with every kiss.

Excerpt:



It was dark when I stepped out of the shop, purse flung over my shoulder, Calliope ghosting along at my heels like a fluffy shadow. “All things considered, it wasn’t that bad a day,” I told her as I led the way toward the Kia I’d left parked out in the middle of the lot, leaving nearer spots for the customers. Some of the older ladies find it painful to walk very far. “I got twenty pages written, and nobody cleaned out the shop while I was catatonic.”Calliope opened her mouth to meow, then froze, her blue eyes going round in alarm. Hissing, she crouched, ears flattening as her tail bushed. I frowned down at her, which is why I didn’t immediately notice the shitstorm about to break on my hapless head.“All right bitch, hand over the purse and maybe we won’t beat you to death.”I jerked my head up, my heart diving for my sneakers as I realized I should’ve listened to Mary and bought a gun.Make that an AK-47.Five men ringed me in the darkness, eyes hard over nasty smiles, looking like the chorus line of America’s Most Wanted.Oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuck!Panicked, I looked around at them. Should I run? They were all tall, muscular, and fit enough to do some damage. Shit, they’ll be on me before I make it five feet.“Valak, you bastard,” Paladin raged in the back of my skull. “I’m going to feed you your own forked dick for this.” I don’t know what the fuck my back brain thought he could do -- or why he needed to do it to another figment of my imagination.“I… I…” I stuttered.A hiss of feline rage sounded. Calliope planted herself in front of me, every black hair standing out, her tail bushed and back arched. My imagination served up an image of somebody’s foot sending her flying like a soccer ball. Frantic, I pounced on her, scooped her up, and spun to run. “Help! Help me! I’m being robbed!”I might as well have saved my breath.“Oh no, you don’t, bitch!” A hard hand clamped onto my shoulder and spun me around. I dropped the cat as my captor drew back a fist, cruelty in his cold eyes.“Summer, listen,” Paladin said, his mental voice urgent. “You’re going to have to fight, baby. I can’t help you. The spell won’t let me take over when you’re conscious.”“What spell? What the fuck do I do?” My frenzied mind raced back and forth like a squirrel in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. “I don’t know what to do!”“Your body knows, Summer. Just let go. We’ve spent your whole life building muscle memory. It can save you if…”“Give us what we want.” The thug’s vicious stare gleamed with nasty anticipation. “Maybe we won’t…”I whipped around and kicked his feet out from under him, then slammed my fist into his mouth before he even hit the ground.For a heartbeat, I stared down at the dazed and bleeding dickhead. “What the fuck just happened? Did I do that?”“You sure did!” Paladin crowed. “That’s my girl! Told you it would work!”“Bitch, the hell?” Dickhead snarled up at me through bloody teeth and started to roll to his feet.Instinct drove me to stomp on his groin. He shrieked and curled around himself like a cooked shrimp.“Cunt!” The second guy swung a fist decorated with prison tatts.I pivoted aside, grabbed the back of Tattboy’s head, and slammed his face down into my lifted knee in the same move Paladin had used the night before. Blood flew.I dropped him on the sidewalk. For such a big guy, he didn’t seem to weigh much.“You don’t know your own strength. Don’t hold back. Let the bastards have it.”Swearing, a muscular redhead charged. The world reeled as my spinning kick plowed into his gut. He gagged, doubling over. I nailed Red with an uppercut that laid him out on his back. It felt weird, as if I was watching the fight from a distance.Three attackers lay bleeding on the ground now, barely conscious from blows I didn’t even know how to deliver. Yet my body kept right on kicking every ass that came in view.Someone was screaming. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw a fourth man on the ground, howling, Calliope shredding his face with her claws.“What the fuck? Cats don’t do that!”“Calliope does!” Paladin cheered. “Get ‘em, Cal!”The fifth guy grabbed my arm, jerking me around and swinging at my face. My left arm shot up, blocking the punch as my right plowed into his jaw, which crunched like a piñata. “Eeeeewwww!” I stared down at him as he sprawled at my feet. “Oh, Jesus, did I just kill that guy?”“Just a fractured jaw,” Paladin assured me.“How would you know, Dr. Fictional?”“Okay, whore, you’re going to pay for that.” Dickhead was up again. Something metallic flashed as he dove at me.I pivoted, grabbed his knife hand, and swung him face first into the shop wall. Dickhead hit the bricks hard enough to bounce.Behind me, I heard the creak of a car door opening. A voice snarled, “Oh no you don’t, you little whore.”I whirled. Out in the parking lot, a man emerged from a black SUV, a rifle in his hands. From twenty feet away he raised the weapon and took aim with the cool skill of a marksman.My blood turned to sleet in my veins. Dead. I’m so dead!
I hope you'll take a look!
Best, Angela Knight