H.R. Jackson's Blog: Writerly Ramblings

Update!

Clashing Muses (book 3) is still moving forward! We’re both so busy with writing AND all of the audio projects I’ve been narrating of late. In fact, I do regularly update our *main* site over at hrjackson.com as well as our Facebook Fan Page.

As SOON as I have more to report, I’ll update.

Fun times ahead!!

Just a Quick Update!

We haven’t fallen off the face of the planet. Not yet, anyway.

Book 3 of The Nemesis Chronicles, Clashing Muses, is still being written! It will be out this year.

The CM Podcast will be back sometime later this month, on Mixlr.

We are still alive! And you can still follow us on Twitter: @hrjacksontnc for updates!

 

~HR

Full VBT Schedule!

In lieu of doing a post every day (which I’ll definitely doing on our Facebook Fan Page), I’m putting the full list of stops up here for all of you to follow along!

At the end of the tour, I’ll spotlight our favorite stops and expand on a few questions from the interviews we’ve done.

Follow Our Tour Here:
August 5 Spotlight
Deb Sanders
www.debsanders.com

August 5 at 11pm EST
Live radio guest spot
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/other_worlds_of_romance    

August 6 Spotlight
Brooke Blogs
www.brookeblogs.com

August 8 Guest blog
Rose & Beps Blog –
http://rosebeps.blogspot.it/

August 9 Excerpt
Mythical Books
http://mythicalbooks.blogspot.ro/

August 13 Character Interview
Laurie’s Paranormal Thoughts and Reviews
http://lauriethoughts-reviews.blogspot.com

August 15 Spotlight
Sapphyria’s Book Reviews
saphsbookblog.blogspot.com

August 16 Spotlight
Fang-tastic Books
www.fang-tasticbooks.blogspot.com

August 19 Interview
The Speculative Salon –
http://speculativesalon.blogspot.com/

August 20 Guest blog
Ebook Escapes
Ebookescapes.com

August 21 Interview
Roxanne’s Realm
www.roxannerealm.blogspot.com

August 22 Interview
http://romancewithflavor.com/

August 23 Spotlight
Eclipse Reviews -Book blogger and reviewer
http://totaleclipsereviews.blogspot.com

August 26 Spotlight
Cloey’s Book Reviews and Other Stuff
cloeyk.blogspot.com

August 27 Spotlight
Reading In Twilight
http://readingintwilight.blogspot.com

August 28 Spotlight
paranormal book club
www.paranormal-bookclub.com

August 29 Interview
The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
www.creativelygreen.blogspot.com

August 29 review
BookwormBridgette’s World
http://bookwormbridgette.blogspot.com

August 30 Guest blog
Marsha A Moore
http://marshaamoore.blogspot.com/

September 2 Interview
Pembroke Sinclair.
pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com

 

Virtual Book Tour: Day One!

And so it begins!

Today you can find us spotlighted over at Deb Sanders’ blog (as well as details on a little giveaway we’re running this month!) and in celebration of our first day of touring, we’ve dropped the price of both Minutes To Midnight AND Hand Of Time. You can snag both of them for $2.99 each, in case you haven’t picked up your e-copy yet.

But most exciting of all (and nerve-wracking for yours truly)?

Tonight, at 11pm EST, you can listen to our live interview at Other Worlds of Romance on blogtalk radio. You can call in with questions, and it’ll give you a chance to ask what’s on your mind as well as listening to a reading of two snippets from Hand Of Time. The ever-elusive silent R might even make an appearance… stranger things have happened.

You’re not going to want to miss out on this!

Click the link for more details:

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/other_worlds_of_romance/2013/08/06/h-r-jackson-is-my-guest-author-on-august-5th

Hope to see/hear you there!

~HR

Virtual Book Tour!

We’re having a virtual book tour!

This is kind of a big deal for us and we’re seriously looking forward to getting out there to share our books with everyone across the blogosphere.

There will be interviews (both podcast and written), reviews of the book, guest blogs… the whole thing.

In fact, one of the really awesome interviews we’re looking forward to is a character interview, where Dirk and Morgan will actually take time out of their oh-so-hectic lives to answer a few questions and give their opinions.

As a matter of fact, we’re opening it up to all of you, too!

If you had the opportunity to ask ANY question of our dynamic duo, what would it be? Post your questions in the comments and we’ll get you the answers you’re seeking. If we really love your question, we might just even include it in the official character interview on August 13th over at Laurie’s Paranormal Thoughts And Reviews blog, and there might just be an extra little something in it for you as well.

Deadline for question submission for the character interview will be midnight PST, August 2nd.

But don’t think you can’t ask questions here anyway beyond the deadline! In fact, if we get enough of a response, we might just make character interviews a regular feature on this blog. Think of it as a way to really get to know the cast and crew of the Nemesis Chronicles.

This weekend we’ll be working on getting more details about just where you’ll be able to find us throughout the tour, and keep your eyes peeled here (and on our Facebook Fan Page) for times/places.

We are certainly looking forward to this tour. Are you?

~HR

Finally! HoT Audiobook is available!

I promised I would update the SECOND I heard back from Audible that Hand of Time was available… And it IS!

Click *this* link to find it on Audible.com –> Hand of Time

It’s also available on iTunes and Amazon (from what I understand).

And thank you, all of you, for being so patient with us while we also waited for everything to go live.

 

We hope you enjoy the book! Please, don’t hesitate to leave comments, reviews, notes, what-have-you letting us know what you think. We love the feedback!

(And we’re already hard at work on Book 3, so there you go!)

 

~HR

Hand Of Time is LIVE!

Happy publishing day!

Hand Of Time, Book 2 of The Nemesis Chronicles is NOW available over on Amazon, Createspace, and B&N (link forthcoming) for your reading pleasure.

 

We want to thank each and every one of you for your support, for your wonderful reviews, and for letting us keep telling our stories! We hope you enjoy reading this second book as much as we enjoyed writing it!

Hand of Time, Chapter 2!

Yesterday, you got a sneak peak at Chapter 1 of the upcoming Hand of Time.

If you read it yesterday, go back and reread, as I discovered later last night that I’d uploaded the “mostly edited” version, not the one for print. I’m relatively sure you’ll notice the differences.

In any event, it’s fixed now. And since we’ve already heard from Dirk, I think it’s time to take a peek and see what Morgan has been up to.

3 days and counting!

Enjoy!

2 THE SKIRMISH (MORGAN)

 

Sam was a flash of Cimmerian shade, her outfit matching her blackberry hair as she zigzagged through the dense forest with the fluid grace of a gazelle with a lion on its tail. She played hide and seek with the shadows, and I was having a hell of a time keeping a bead on her. Bursting through the pines and out into a large clearing of short grass, I spanned the distance between us, waylaying her with an aerial kick to the back that sent her tumbling forward into a combat roll with an explosion of breath. Springing to her feet before she came to a full stop, Sam pivoted into a roundhouse kick that I barely dodged, my fist aiming directly for her jaw.

She deflected the strike with the momentum of her spin, managing to avoid my follow up kicks, before rushing in to clip my chin with her elbow. The shockwave from the sharp hit almost made me bite my tongue, pain spiking down my jaw and into my neck. Capturing my next jab, she used my kidney as a speed bag before I managed to retreat with a grunt of rapidly mounting irritation. Regrouping quickly despite the ache in my side that threatened to drop me, I lashed out with a flurry of fists and feet, hoping that sheer speed would somehow get past her defenses.

Sam expertly blocked and dodged everything I threw at her before unexpectedly stopping my forward inertia with a hard palm to the chest that sent me reeling back gasping for air as my lungs forgot how to work.

Breathing is highly overrated anyway.

In the two months since I’d joined Nemesis, I’d had many occasions to spar with Sam, the current head of the group and perpetual pain in my ass, but never at quite this intensity. With the exception of Sam’s fraternal twin, Tequila, no other member of Nemesis understood the training style I’d grown up with in my Amazonian tribe. It was a brutal, no holds barred, out for blood mode of fighting, meant to test our skills, to keep them as honed as our blades. But there was a fine line between training and the outright brawl this session was quickly turning into.

And damned if I didn’t have the first clue as to what set her off this time. But then, getting a read on Sam was like trying to capture smoke with a sieve. Holding back, she eyed me as we circled one another slowly.

She and her sister had been raised outside the tribe until they were fifteen by their mother, the former Queen Antiope. Both were formidable fighters in their own rights, thanks to her guidance. Tequila, the resident healer of Nemesis, had come back to her Amazonian roots, while Sam decided to serve with our shield-sisters the Valkyrie, before they were both recruited into Nemesis’ ranks. Where her sister was exceptionally skilled in the healing arts, Sam’s abilities resided in tactical strategy and a natural talent for Psychomancy.

I deflected another whirlwind of strikes and growled, dancing out of the way. Over the years, my experiences going toe-to-toe with Psychomancers had shown me they generally resorted entirely on fighting with their mental acumen, relying on telekinesis and telepathy to swing the odds in their favor.

But Sam had elevated it into an art form, wielding both blade and brain with the ferocity of a woman possessed and the skill of an accomplished warrior. She’d managed, numerous times, to make even me question if I’d somehow become dumb and clumsy, and I’d been swinging swords since before she and her sister were even a twinkle in Antiope’s baby blues.

Truth be told, this fight had been a long time coming. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Sam, per se, but I was unaccustomed to being bossed around, even if I understood the hierarchy as it stood within Nemesis. I wasn’t used to being the puella, the rookie. It rankled me, getting under my skin like a sliver of glass.

Sam motioned for me to attack, egging me on with a gesture. I hung back. She was baiting me. My eyes narrowed.

When she’d suggested we ‘take it to the wood line’ after our most recent verbal altercation, I was more than happy to oblige, despite wishing her timing had been better. We had a house full of reveling Amazons, Valkyrie, and other guests for Midsummer celebrations, and I had a gala date later that evening with Dirk. I’d been dragging my feet about it all day and that black cloud had gotten me into this predicament.

Still, it felt good to take out all of the pent up frustration and worry on someone who’d been an absolute thorn in my side for the last two months, even if she was making me wonder if this was going to end with one of taking a one-way trip to Bella’s morgue. The gnawing sensation of impending disaster intensified when Sam reached for her blade, a scarily grim and focused expression smoothing the lines on her face into an impassive mask. I immediately followed suit, loosing Aduro from her scabbard and pulling her free with a single smooth movement.

The slow circling continued and I knew she was waiting for an opening. The ground below me was springy, damp from the perpetual moistness that helped to keep the Emerald City its lovely verdant hue. It was a hell of a drastic change from the Vegas citadel’s sandy sparring fields, but at least it wouldn’t hurt as much to get knocked down.

And with the way Sam kept eyeballing me, I knew one of us was going to end up ass over teakettle soon.

What the hell is with her today? I hadn’t realized that telling Sam I had plans for the evening that didn’t include sitting through another boring debriefing warranted this kind of ass kicking. Maybe the stress of being surrounded by a veritable nation of shield-sisters was getting to her.

As if she heard my thoughts —and considering the steadily building pressure behind my eyes, she most likely had— Sam’s sickly green blade, Hungersnöd, sang against the fire kissed crimson steel of Aduro. The flames wreathing along the edges of Aduro ebbed for a moment as if they were in danger of being snuffed out. The force of the blow sent up a shower of multicolored sparks into the air.

Sam twisted, grunting with the effort of whirling the other blade toward my sword arm. Hungersnöd had the distinct advantage of being not just one blade, but two, each one equally sharp and deadly. I wheeled back, just barely managing to keep my limb firmly attached with a quick feint. The fine hairs on the skin of my arm stood on end at the near miss.

Sam was, indeed, a force to be reckoned with. I, on the other hand, was starting to feel the effects of her assault. Fatigue teased at the edges of my muscles, waiting like a tiger in low grass to pounce. Sweat was pouring down the sides of my face, dripping from my lashes and stinging my eyes.

Gritting my teeth, I parried Sam’s incoming onslaught, fighting the headache that was on the verge of dropping me into a writhing mass of piteous moaning. She was shoving against my mental barriers to distract me and the exertion of battling on both fronts was starting to take its toll. My arms felt heavy as sandbags and my footwork was so off I was surprised I hadn’t broken an ankle yet. The ground rolled and pitched as a sudden, Sam-assisted wave of vertigo threatened to topple me and I paused just long enough to keep from falling down.

Stumbling back to regroup, I narrowly avoided the razor steel that screamed through the air where my face had been just seconds before. As Sam stopped to glare at me, again, strangely not pressing her advantage, I wondered if she was growing as tired of this as I was. She blinked slowly, as though centering herself, and when her eyes refocused on me, gray irises shifting to mimic the dull willow green of her blades, a byproduct of her unfortunate injection with Buxley’s serum three months prior, I knew she wasn’t about to concede.

Sam swayed lightly on the balls of her feet, twin blades at the defensive, and from the set of her jaw, I realized that she was in a different headspace. One that made my heart pause for reflection a second longer than I was comfortable with. This is about to get really ugly, my subconscious whispered, and I knew I needed to put a stop to this.

Aduro pulsed against my palm, the heat radiating from the blade spiking as the corona of fire engulfing the blood infused steel writhed its way up my forearm as though my sword could sense the change in Sam’s attitude as surely as I could. The scorching warmth suffused through me, bolstering my resolve, refreshing my flagging reserves, and with a low snarl, I took a step toward Sam. I was not going to be put down like an ailing animal.

Not by her. Not here.

“You really want to do this?” I seethed quietly, somewhere deep in my subconscious desperately hoping her answer was a resounding yes. “Well come on, then, fearless leader,” I spit the words like a curse, “show me what you’ve got.”

“Good show of focus, Morgan!” The shrill shout startled me, spiraling my attention from Sam to where Bree, younger sister to Sam’s partner Bella, stood on the sidelines beside an equally excited Astrid. “You can take her!” Bree telegraphed an encouragingly triumphant smile my way, bouncing around like a maniac in the grass when she noticed my glance, clapping like she was my most rabid fan. Her waist-length copper hair whipped around her body, as did the flowing skirt of her gauzy pastel flower dress, as if they’d been taken hostage by the winds.

“Come on, Mom!” chimed Astrid. She looked like she’d just returned from a run. Her cheeks bright pink, eyes a-twinkle, pigtails swaying back and forth like a living metronome, ticking away the seconds that I stood there.

Wait. Confusion froze me in place, while I frantically tried to figure out what the hell was going on. When did they show up?

Sam used the distraction to surge forward with a cry, delivering a kick to my midsection that knocked me off my feet and into the grass with an explosion of curses from me. My elbow slammed against the ground, sending a stinger of a jolt down my not-so-funny bone. And Aduro went flying in the opposite direction my ass was headed.

“Tezcatlipoca, show your damn face so we can get this over with!” Sam bellowed at me as I scrambled to my feet. Edging toward my sword, I narrowly dodged Sam’s slashing dual blades. It seemed like the faster she moved, the slower I went.

“Damnit, Sam,” I snapped, lunging forward to catch her wrist on the downswing, giving it a savage wrench as I twisted her arm behind her back. She let out a harsh yelp as I applied more pressure and leverage, yanking the weapon out of her trapped hand and using it to hold her at bay. “I was pissed before when you insulted my faculties, but I don’t know what the hell you’re yelling at me about now!”

“That’s the way to take control of her, Morgan,” Bree’s self-congratulatory snicker floated to my ears. I heard her take a long gulp from a glass, a soft tinkle of ice that sounded again as I spared a glance to see her raising it to me in a sloshing toast. “Show her who the Queen should be.”

Again, Sam took advantage of my distraction to wriggle from my grasp, narrowly crossing blades as she twirled. Sam pushed forward, a razored edge of green steel stopping inches from my face, before she stomped hard on the instep of my bare foot with one booted heel and slammed her forehead into the bridge of my nose when my guard dropped.

Blood shot from my nostrils and I let out another string of expletives as I hobbled back. My newly acquired weapon leapt from my hand and returned to Sam, as surely as if she’d physically snatched it from my grasp, and she promptly became a stinging blur as sweat dripped into my eyes, mixing with the tears brimming against my lower lashes from the impact. Resetting the broken cartilage with a swift movement, my foot joined the throbfest already in full swing in my brain, before all of the pain went numb, and my focus returned.

“Shut up, Bree,” I barked, narrowing my eyes at Sam.

“Don’t mind her,” Astrid chirped, all smiles and enthusiasm, “she’s drunk.”

“I am not,” sputtered Bree. “It’s just iced tea. I don’t know what the big deal is.”

“Whatever, lush,” I could hear the eye roll in her voice. Astrid shouted more encouragement to Sam. “Kick butt, Mom! You got this!”

“I’ve seen you two go at it before, but this is the best sparring match ever!” In my periphery, I watched Bree wave her hand imperiously, like a queen to her court jesters, “Please continue.”

Wait, what?

Her words were enough to draw both of Sam and I to a stop, her eyes shifting back to gray. I kept my wary gaze locked on Sam as she turned to face the peanut gallery, ready for her to resume her assault at a moment’s notice.

I was secretly glad for the reprieve. It gave me a chance to finally locate Aduro and rearm myself. The headache didn’t abate one bit, maintaining a steady throb that kept me fuzzy and fatigued. If I weren’t so pissed, I could almost admire Sam’s tenacity and multitasking skill.

Almost.

“Wait a minute, you two,” Sam scowled and Astrid’s enthusiasm died a slow, lingering death as she finally got a good look at her mother’s face. “What are you doing out here in the first place?”

Confusion soured Bree’s features as though she’d just sucked on a lemon. “Isn’t this the match to determine the Solstice Queen?”

“Queen?” I mouthed before my brain finally decided to kick off the comfy covers and get on with her job. “Oh, right.”

The crowning of the Solstice Queen was the culmination of the Midsummer celebrations, an honor reserved for she who showed the most cunning and skill against her opponents. I hadn’t realized I was in the running.

I’d been doing my damnedest to keep myself as far away from the temptations that seemed to drape from every surface from within the mansion and without the last two days. It wasn’t easy. My kind were particularly…frisky at Midsummer. The sheer volume of pheromones flooding the airspace inside the mansion was enough to make me lock myself in my room for fear of somehow summoning Dirk and subjecting him to the very same urges that were turning my shield-sisters into sensual vessels of Aphrodite, just begging to be filled.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t experienced my fair share of Midsummer madness before. It just seemed to be hitting me particularly hard this year and I didn’t trust myself around anyone.

Especially him.

Rolling my eyes, I caught Dirk in my periphery talking to Bella, and blinked, surprised. My surprise upended into a frown. He’d told me he couldn’t teleport this far. Something nebulous and unpleasant coiled in my stomach. Apparently someone has been progressing in his abilities and forgot to clue me in. Pursing my lips, I pushed it to the back of my mind, resolving to talk to him about it later, and turned back to Sam as Astrid skidded to a stop in front of her mother.

“Mom, I was thinking that Dad and I could do a duet together, while you play the violin,” Astrid clasped her hands in front of her in a begging stance, beaming a smile made of unicorns and rainbows at Sam, batting her long lashes. And like that, Astrid managed to diffuse any remaining tension between Sam and me. I shook my head with a low chuckle. Astrid was definitely her father’s daughter.

“Did you ask your Daddy?” We all glanced in his direction, but he remained oblivious, deep in conversation with Bella near the trees.

“He said yes already.” Astrid practically floated on tip toes.

“In that case,” Sam said, “of course I will.”

Bree chortled into her glass, eyeballing me with a mischievous glint as she sauntered over to join us. “Well if this isn’t a challenge to be the Queen,” she said, after a long gulp of her drink and a smack of her lips, “then are you going to perform something for us? Morgan, surely you have other, um, non-lethal talents you could share?” I gave Bree an eye-slap and she paled. “Also, if this wasn’t what we thought, what was it exactly? You two looked set to raze the earth.”

“Just a misunderstanding,” Sam said, shooting me a warning glare that told me to let her do the talking. “Morgan and I are fine. I just thought she had something that she doesn’t.”

“And what might that be?” I bristled, curious because it was news to me.

“Stamina, clearly,” Sam said, dryly, a wry smile tilting the edges of her lips briefly. “Good thing you two showed up when you did. Morgan looked like she needed a breather. She’s not as young as she used to be.”

“Don’t even go there,” I warned, massaging my temples with an exaggerated motion, hoping Sam would get the hint.

Bree whistled and wagged her index finger in the air. “I think she just did. Are you going to take that from her, Morgan?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Bree was trying to rile me up again.

“Stop being a boob,” Astrid scowled, bopping Bree in the arm. Stumbling back, Bree erupted in effervescent giggles, nearly falling to the grass, confirming Astrid’s earlier pronouncement.

Oh yes. She’s definitely tipsy.

“Hey, watch it,” Bree pouted prettily with a hiccup. “I’ve got a beverage here.”

Sam watched me with detachment, her irises back to their normal color of gray storm clouds ringing a restless midnight blue ocean, as I carefully sheathed Aduro. Sam’s thoughts were once more concealed beneath a mask of stoicism, cultivated by years of mental discipline and steely resolve. Behind my sockets, the pressure was still mounting, like my head was an orange and Sam was making juice. With a sigh, I held up my hands. “Can you please stop poking around inside my skull? If you haven’t found what you’re looking for, I can assure you it’s not there.”

Bree gasped loudly, as though I’d just snatched a butterfly out of the air and plucked its wings off, affronted eyes pinning me in place. “You just gave up!”

Sam snorted at me and it took a slow ten count to keep from throwing down the gauntlet all over again. “I thought I trained you better. You looked like a helpless turtle out there. Adorable, to be sure, but helpless all the same.” The pressure abruptly eased and I nearly drooped with relief.

“Thank you.”

“And you’re correct. The Abyssal has somehow left your premises. Not that that’s a good thing,” Sam muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

“The what?” I asked, as three curiosity-filled pairs of eyes all swung to Sam in unison.

“Abyssal,” Sam sighed, “I guess you’ve never heard of one?”

“Nope.”

“You would’ve, if you’d been listening at my, what did you call them? Tedious, waste of time debriefings,” she snapped.

“Well if I knew it was going to get your panties all in a twist, I would’ve worded it differently,” I shot back.

Bree cleared her throat and straightened as though she was about to give a lecture. It wasn’t until she opened her mouth and started talking that I realized a lecture was exactly what she was about to deliver.

“After the Cataclysm, every Supreme Being, great and small agreed to leave Earth and descend into the Abyss, never to return. Or at least that’s what they wanted us to believe.” Bree’s grin widened as her Irish lilt dipped into a clandestine whisper. “But the gods didn’t want to leave their ardent followers empty handed. Relics, owned by the gods themselves, were left in the possession of humans and Mythics for protection. Each one of those divine objects was imbued with an infinitely replenishing sliver of that deity’s essence…”

“… which we call an Abyssal,” finished Astrid, under her breath, giving me a startled glance when she realized my attention had swung to her. “What? I read stuff.”

The soft descant of a violin started to play in my head, heralding Sam’s mental approach. A much friendlier, non-combative attempt at mental communication than before. Someone clearly didn’t want Bree or Astrid overhearing her.

Anger flared in my stomach like a match being struck in a dark room. But I took a deep breath and kept it simmering.

Suddenly things were starting to make more sense. Over the past few months, I’d been having a harder time controlling my emotions than normal, acting like an angsty teenager at the slightest provocation, experiencing auditory and visual hallucinations that made me doubt my own sanity at times.

Something was… riding me. That chilled me to the core. At least I had an answer to what had been plaguing me. It was one of the reasons I’d been keeping myself so busy of late, throwing myself into Nemesis business with the fervor of a woman possessed.

Which, I suppose, I was.

Sam gave me a slight head tilt. Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror.>

I hoped the sarcasm saturating my reply might indicate that she was definitely not off my bad side. At the rate and speed she was going with all her secretive keep-Morgan-in-the-dark chicanery, Sam may as well have driven a flag into my last nerve and declared herself supreme ruler.

I decided to cut right to the chase. I wanted to throw myself to the mercy of my shower and scrub my skin into oblivion. It was a violation unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and I doubted that anything would take that feeling away. I felt helpless. And angry. Furious. I had no ready target to direct my frustration at, so I focused it on the one person I knew could handle it.

Sam gave me a patient look and I knew that she’d been privy to those ugly feelings rearing their hydra-like heads. To my complete surprise, she didn’t admonish me.

Sam’s eyes flicked over to where Bella was holding hands with Dirk.

Hand of Time, Book 2!

So, as announced in our last post, book 2 of The Nemesis Chronicles, Hand of Time, will be hitting your e-readers this Saturday.

Yes, it’s 4/20. Yes. We know.

We also know that you’re probably wondering about the audiobook and the hard copy.

As far as the audio is concerned, we’re hoping to have that out sometime in the next month, through Audiobooks.com. We’ll be sure to keep you updated on the progress there.

In regards to the hard copies, well, we’ve got the proof copy on its way and should have that on Thursday. Provided everything goes according to plan, they should be available on 4/20 as well through Createspace and Amazon.

Are you excited yet? Because we are!

In fact, we’re SO excited about book 2, that we’re going to post the first two chapters for you here.

Just to whet your appetite, as it were.

So, without further ado, Chapter 1 of Hand of Time. Enjoy!

 

1 THE AWAKENING (DIRK)

 

Morgan and I were floating in the air, her clenching thighs hugging tight against my hips, our bodies fully entwined. My eyes stung with sweat, but that didn’t distract me one iota from the way her orgasmic laughter swept against my ears, sending tremors of pleasure through me from head to toe to match the ones rippling through her own body. Light glinted off a mirrored surface from somewhere above me, blinding me for a moment. I blinked rapidly, not wanting to miss a second of her pleasure, until Morgan’s dusky blue orbs caught mine, and suddenly everything became clear again. Dark waves of softly scented russet hair surrounded us, a silken curtain shutting out the outside world until it was just the two of us.

“I love it when you prove me wrong,” Morgan’s words bubbled up from her throat, still husky with the remnants of her climax, sending a fresh series of twitches southward. She collapsed against my chest, her hot breath moistening my neck as she panted. “You said you’d outlast me and you didn’t disappoint.”

“And I never get tired of hearing you say that,” my chuckle melted into a low, throaty groan as she kissed the nape of my neck, each touch of her lips sending my body into little convulsions, all the way down to my curling toes.

“Let’s take ten minutes and go again,” her fingers stroked through my hair in a way that was sure to shorten her suggested break significantly. Her lips worked against mine, slanting to deepen the kiss, the bold strokes of her tongue against mine making coherent thought nearly impossible.

I dragged my lips away with a strength reserved for fighting ten berzerking Jötunns, nearly faltering as she nibbled my lower lip. I caught her wandering hands in mine and gave her a grin. “If we’re going to continue the way we’re going, I’ll need to eat something first.”

“Now that you mention it,” she playfully nipped my chest sending new shivers racing down my skin, “I’m feeling a little peckish myself.” Tilting back, her legs constricted against my thighs, and I gasped at the pain, the pleasure suddenly something less enjoyable. I opened my mouth to complain and stopped cold when I caught a glimpse of Morgan’s eyes. The dark blue had been replaced by pure smoke, swirling hypnotically in a way that shriveled any libido I might have had left.

“Uh, Morgan—” She interrupted me by wrenching her wrists out of my hands and bringing them to my shoulders, a vise-like grip sending warning signals off in my brain, cutting through any remaining satisfied haze with the surety of a scalpel through flesh. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, my brain desperately screamed. My heart, having lapsed into a sluggish, relaxed pace suddenly sped up, slamming against my aching ribcage.

“Your heart will do nicely to slake my hunger.” Her lips split into a feral fanged grin, a jaguar’s hungry smile, as her nails, resembling talons of polished black glass, scored over my chest, leaving bloody trails in their wake. My body arched with the searing pain, every cell shrieking in protest.

“What the –” I moved to grab her wrists but she was too fast. Those cruel, unrelenting fingers found purchase at the edge of my ribcage and plunged beneath, sinking into the skin, past muscle and bone, up to the wrist… reaching for, and claiming, the desperately churning organ beneath.

Flailing in my desperation to get her off of me, I slammed my palms against her chest. Instead of flesh, my hands collided with hard wood, as I was wrenched awake. Pain jolted up my arms, pulling a yelp from me before I plunged from my hovering position to crash onto the soft surface of the bed below, the mattress coils objecting with a loud squeak. Panic left me gasping into a pillow as the remnants of the nightmare slid away, my heart squeezing painfully enough to reassure me that I was still in firm possession of it. Flipping to my back, I closed my eyes and focused on slowing my breathing, struggling to calm myself.

“Just a dream,” I groaned against my hand, sweeping it down my face and further, to where dream-Morgan had jabbed me with her nails. The flesh was undamaged, intact. “Just. A. Dream.” One hell of a nightmare, was more like it, but no more real than anything else my sleep fevered mind decided to torment me with.

When I’d finally managed to take more than panicked, exaggerated breaths, I eased up onto my elbows, shaking my head dully to clear away the cobwebs. I unwound from the dark red fabric tangled around my legs, looking around to get my bearings. Relief battled distress as I soaked in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom, the sunlight filtering in around the blinds, slanting shafts of light over the chairs at the foot of the bed and the oak armoire in the corner across the room.

On one hand I was home, safe and sound. On the other, I couldn’t remember how I got there. This was my second blackout in as many days and I wasn’t liking that trend one bit. Sliding to the edge of the bed, I winced as it was made very evident that I’d had another rough night, if the feeling of being rubbed raw in certain very tender areas was any indication.

I really need to stop drinking.

Thankfully, Sam, my ex, had been there during my first blackout, the night before last, under the pretense of teaching me how to hone my new Psychomantic abilities – the drinks being her idea and all – so there’d been minimal damage in public, but I could tell that afterwards was a completely different story. A hotel room trashed beyond repair, broken furniture and clothes everywhere. I’d woken up naked and alone then, too. Thankfully, as newest War Baron of the Artisan’s Guild, I owned the place, so any questions the staff might have had were kept to themselves. As for my own questions, well, Sam was being decidedly closemouthed about the night. But then, that was Sam. Something had gone on, even if she wouldn’t tell me what exactly happened.

I’d tried to keep everything in moderation with my alcohol consumption last night, but I’d clearly failed Sam’s lesson once again, despite my best intentions to behave. Dropping my head into my hands, I massaged my temples, trying to recount my last thoughts before my creeptastic dream, only to be interrupted by the harsh jangling of the phone on the nightstand next to my bed.

I fumbled the receiver before clearing my throat and answering with a simple, “Hello?”

“Do you know that it’s already three in the afternoon, Baron Donner?” My eyes rolled at the histrionic elevation of Chad Speare’s voice, my current stylist, as it filtered through the receiver, and my shoulders slumped.

“Chad—”I may as well have been trying to converse with a freight train with the way he drowned out my words, while steamrolling right over them.

“Respectfully, War Baron, you do realize that I’m not a miracle worker? I need every available second to get you and Morgan both ready for the gala. You can’t expect—” I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath as his tirade continued, further agitating my already pounding headache, and I mentally cursed keeping him on board. He had come with impressive credentials, but was acting like the world was on the brink of destruction, just because Morgan and I were late for our appointment. I swung a glance to the clock, scowling.

If he only knew. Scratching my naked belly, I wished I’d just let the phone ring. Glancing down, pangs of guilt socked me hard in the chest, but didn’t shrivel a fully aroused Mini-Dirk as snippets of the events leading up to my blackout started playing in my head. I remembered gorgeous women and endless mead, and not much more than that, but the scent of sex hung in the air of my bedroom like a lingering perfume. I didn’t know what I’d done, but I was pretty sure it involved nudity, judging by my state of undress.

“Chad,” I said, jumping in when he finally took a breath, trying to keep the exasperation out of my tone, “Morgan will look great in anything and you already know what suit I’m wearing. You’ll have plenty of time to get us both presentable by the time Christopher’s party starts.”

Even with his father’s former involvement with the Society, I hadn’t been surprised to receive the invitation to Dr. Christopher Buxley’s latest charity gala. Christopher didn’t want any part of the late Dr. Benjamin Buxley’s experimentation on Mythics– those of us in the general public who were, for lack of a better way to put it, in possession of abilities that made us more human than human— for scientific gain, choosing to distance himself from that legacy by working within the system to topple it.

I was, however, a bit taken aback that he’d decided to host the shindig at his own residence instead of renting out a ballroom in one of the many casinos on the Strip. Not just from a business standpoint — we’d made it to the friend stage and I would’ve gladly given him the Baron discount— but because he was still dealing with the backlash of negativity from his father’s actions, and an open invitation like this was just inviting trouble. I still didn’t know what charity the ball was benefiting, but I’d already decided to donate at least a grand to it.

“Baron Donner, I need to make sure that Morgan’s measurements have not changed since she was in your position. There wouldn’t be—”

Pulling the receiver away as he launched into another litany, I dropped it on the bed beside me, letting Chad’s annoying buzz talk to my sheets for a bit. He’d been determined to maintain his stranglehold as Artisan’s Guild stylist extraordinaire following the demise of his former canvas, Primo Constantine. When he’d heard that Morgan was going to be my date for the evening, he’d practically tripped over himself with glee, crowing something about wanting to transform Morgan from mere Amazon Princess into the quintessential Goddess with nothing more than a little silk, and an endless reserve of willpower. But with the way he was ranting right now, I was starting to have second thoughts about accepting the Barony office, no matter how much I enjoyed the position.

Morgan had handed me the reins of the Artisan’s Guild after her sixty day stint, in favor of taking a job in Nemesis. I’d hit the ground running, making sweeping changes meant to undo all the damage Primo had done that Morgan had left unaddressed.  She’d used the position more for reconnaissance, trying to ferret out any remaining members of the late Dr. Buxley’s organization, the Society for the Betterment of Humanity, the Society for short. They were still a force to be reckoned with, even if they had been mostly quiet in recent months, hellbent on leveling the playing field between Mythics and humans, and, if that proved impossible, wiping us out entirely.

Between our new obligations, Morgan and I hadn’t been able to reconnect physically in almost a month. Not since Sue and Tequila’s wedding.

Tequila had supplied us all with some celebratory herbs she labeled as ‘medicinal’ as a thank you gift. Morgan and I had smoked to excess that night and the ensuing buzz had lit up both our libidos, making every surface a perfectly legitimate piece of sex furniture to bend her over and have my way with her on. Those memories and the fevered reimagining my sleeping brain was more than delighted to share, were all I had. Not that I didn’t enjoy the dreams—when she wasn’t trying to kill me in them—but I’d much rather have her in the flesh.

Mini-Dirk twitched in agreement and reminded me I was still on the phone. I decided to end the conversation as expediently as possible. I snatched up the receiver. “Chad. Chad!” He paused and I pounced, letting flattery do its thing, “I’m sure we’ll both be amazed by anything you come up with, just have it ready for when we arrive at your shop. Consider this a test of your substantial skill.”

He was quiet long enough that I wondered if he’d hung up. It wouldn’t be the first time. I held my breath, waiting, and then he cleared his throat. “And when will that be?”

“At the moment, I’m still waiting for Morgan to show up here,” I said, letting the disgruntle work its way into my tone, trying to find a good reason why she wasn’t around. Where is she, anyway? “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she’s running late. Whenever Morgan shows up, I’ll give you a call so you know we’re on our way. How’s that?” Blood rushed in my ears, filling his stunned silence, before I heard muffled words of a barely audible feminine voice, his assistant most likely, in the background.

“Yes, War Baron,” Chad’s tone de-escalated from shrill to tranquil, much to my delight. I didn’t think my head could tolerate another screed. “Of course. I’ll just… get both your outfits ready. But I must insist that you retrieve them yourself this time, not your secretary.” I could hear his lip curl through the phone. Chad had expressed his dislike of my assistant, Hilde, on several occasions prior. It was a grudge that I didn’t particularly understand, nor did I care to. “Unless you’d prefer I to come to you? I can wait there for Morgan’s arrival, get everything set up to make the process as expedient as possible. As I’ve already said, I want to be sure of her measurements.”

Scrubbing a hand against my neck, I nodded at no one in particular. “How long would it take for you to get everything to my house?” The longer the better, I pleaded silently.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Chad said and the line disconnected, leaving me staring at the handset. I shook my head and hung up the receiver.

Standing with a low groan, I walked toward the bathroom, feeling like a calf fresh from birth, desperately needing to wash the smell of bad decision making off my flesh. Trying to walk around on wobbly legs was not proving to be easy, my bedroom becoming an obstacle course determined to make me crawl. I used the heavy furniture for support until I made it to the toilet, placing my forehead on the wall high above the tank with a sigh.

After a bit of fighting with my flagging afternoon wood, I finally exhaled into a much needed piss, my brain beginning to roll back the minutes. Regret curdled my stomach at what possibly could’ve happened to get to this point, before I flushed the alcohol away. Reaching for my toothbrush, I added paste to the bristles before replacing the taste of strawberries and wine of an unknown vintage with that of minty freshness. Staring into the mirror, the floral aroma of Biomancer generated pheromones in the confined space reminded me of a French brothel, sending my mind on a leisurely stroll down memory lane. Pushing the carnal images to the background as I spit into the sink, I swapped my brush for floss. Thoughts of my daily rounds of the Asgardian—my hotel and casino—flung themselves into the foreground, and with them, more snippets of what transpired before my blackout.

I’d run into a group of amorous Amazons who’d heard I had an intimate understanding of their culture. And not just from my time with Morgan, either. Being well versed in all sorts of mating rituals, even those of an Amazonian flavor, gave me a leg up over any other competition as a courtesan. It didn’t hurt that I came from solid Viking stock, worthy opponents on the battlefield and even more reputed for our sexual appetites. I’m relatively sure being 6’7” and built like a grizzly bear, able to withstand an inordinate amount of abuse without permanent damage, didn’t hurt either. Either way, I’d amassed a rather large Amazonian following over the years.

I hadn’t been surprised to find them wanting to spend a little intimate time with me. From my experience, Amazons had the peculiar inclination to behave like cats in heat during the four days they celebrated Midsummer, and yesterday had been day two. It was during these celebrations when they would discover their potential mating partners through a tantric ritual that led into sex for procreation’s sake. Inwardly, I cringed, letting my brain leap to the logical conclusions that I didn’t quite want to admit, silently kicking myself for being so accommodating when I wasn’t a courtesan anymore.

You like to make women happy. My subconscious spoke up to ease my troubled thoughts. Is that a crime when you’re still technically single?

I agreed with that line of thinking, until a flash of color in my periphery drew my attention to seven souvenirs cascading over the doorknob in a rainbow of fabric. The giving of favors, usually in the form of an article of clothing, to those men the Amazons fancied demonstrated their approval of our coital bliss. Gathering up the garments, the floral bouquet snatched me by the shorthairs as I opened the hamper lid and hurled them inside. Peering down at the physical reminders of what had occurred between myself and their owners, my stomach solidified into granite as I begun to worry, before finding the rational to blast my fears to smithereens.

So what if Morgan would’ve seen those? My inner Viking weighed in, testily. She’s the one that wanted to just be friends with benefits. What she thinks means nothing. She’s probably been off doing the same. Two days into Midsummer and where is she?

Up until last night, I’d been stalwart in my conviction to maintain the approved arrangement, preferring that over no contact at all. But I’d clearly slipped back into full-on courtesan mode, if I’d managed to entertain seven Amazons in one night with my Biomancy enhanced stamina, and years of practice. My recent sexual exploits was all but guaranteed to get back to her. Why did I feel so ashamed? It’s not like I could lose someone that wasn’t mine to begin with, and she’d gone out of her way to make sure I understood that we were not a true couple. Hell, I thought with a sigh, maybe she’d see what she was missing and want me back? Jealousy would be a vast improvement over the indifference I seemed to be getting at every turn.

Closing the hamper cover, I prepped the shower, stepping inside when the water was to my liking. Applying soap and water to a small cloth, I scrubbed the night’s debauchery from my prickling skin, and focused on the more important issue: my most recent blackout. My memory was hazy as to whether the blackout occurred before or after I’d been drinking, but considering that we’d been at my casino, there was almost no way it could’ve been something in the alcohol. My brow furrowed as I tried to narrow down the timeline, but I gave up when all it did was set my head to aching.

There was a possibility that the cameras watching the casino floor of the Asgardian may have caught what transpired after the blackout occurred. Worst case scenario, I could see if Sue would allow me to view the All Seeing Eye surveillance of the area, and hopefully piece together my wild night. Anything to shed light on what had happened.

After mulling those thoughts over, while shampooing and conditioning my ginger hair, I stepped out of my shower and dried off. Inhaling the steam that had formed in the air, I let it fill my lungs with its pleasant warmth before letting the breath go and slipping the towel onto the rack. Crossing into the bedroom, I headed to the dresser to pick out a pair of silk boxers, grab a cotton T-shirt from a different drawer, and snag my pajama bottoms from where they were draped over the chair in the corner. Once dressed, I sauntered downstairs with renewed vigor, determined to make the best of a bad situation, only to be stopped mid stride by my Psychomancer detection system. Recognition of the mental signature urged me forward, the raised hairs on the back of my neck relaxing as I walked into the dining room.

“Afternoon, Dad,” Astrid chirped between bites of cereal from a seat at the dining room table, turning her thousand megawatt smile on me as I rounded the corner. To say I was surprised to see her there would be an understatement.

“Good afternoon?” I said, my voice taking an upswing making my greeting sound like a question, as I stood in the entryway, at a loss. “Not that I don’t appreciate finding my daughter hanging out in my dining room, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I ask how you got here?”

“Mom dropped me off. She said you wouldn’t mind watching me while she was busy with Nemesis stuff.”

“Of course I don’t mind, pumpkin,” I lied, biting back a rant about Sam’s horrible timing. “You know you’re always welcome here. It’s just that I have Chad coming over in about fifteen minutes. I don’t want you to get bored while I’m getting my fitting.”

“I won’t,” she giggled, before leaving the chair with a leap toward me, her long strawberry blonde pigtails trailing behind. I almost had to do a double take. Although my daughter was only ten years old, she was already taller than the shortest person I knew, Bree, at 5’2. It seemed that she’d grown another inch or two since I’d seen her at Sue and Tequila’s wedding.

The lavender tank top she wore layered over a pair of black biker shorts emphasized her athletic physique and showed a little more of her dusky skin than I was comfortable with. All of that paired with the face of a budding supermodel, and unforgettable eyes, gray irises ringed with a steely blue— the Psychomancer’s mark—made me rethink my easy-going dad routine of late, in favor of locking my daughter away in a tower somewhere remote.

Astrid smacked into me with the force of a landslide, almost knocking me backward, her arms tightening around my middle in a crushing embrace. For a moment I empathized with my brother, Jinx, wondering if this is what it felt like when I hugged him. The grimace forming on my face felt eerily reminiscent of the same expression he’d given me.

Breaking free before my ribs caved in, I smiled down at my little girl, flicking one of her pigtails to set it to swinging. “I see you’ve already have had something to eat. I hope you won’t mind if I join you.”

“Not at all,” Astrid beamed up at me. “You’re out of milk, though. I had the last of what was in there. It was three days past the expiration date, by the way. You really do need to restock your fridge if you expect me to visit more.” She gave me one last side squeeze and whirled away, her attention relocating back to her bowl of cereal. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Can you do a duet with me tomorrow night at the closing of the Midsummer celebration? Mom’ll be playing her violin.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, sailing past Astrid to find something to eat. I spotted a small thin velvety looking container, roughly the dimensions of a paperback book, resting on the table beside her bowl. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the mystery box.

Astrid swallowed another spoonful, and flipped the lid open before answering. “Uncle Jinx said that he knows that you are trying to woo Morgan and it’s something that he thinks she’ll be impressed with. She’ll be able to talk to her mother from beyond the grave.” Astrid wiggled her fingers, dropping her voice in a way that made that last part sound downright spooky.

My eyes dropped to a necklace made of a tapestry of interwoven turquoise and cinnamon colored beads. The way it was nestled in the box, I could see the gold counterweight that would hold the whole thing in place on the wearer’s neck. It was a deceptively simple looking design, but as my hand hovered over it, I felt the power signature of a true relic, a spidery hum that teased against my palm and set it to tingling.

“Right,” I breathed, doing my best to keep the irritation at my brother using Astrid as a messenger for something so old and potentially dangerous out of my voice. “That’s sweet of you, Astrid. Do you know where Uncle Jinx got it from?”

“I have no idea,” Astrid said, downing the leftover milk from the bowl, before wiping away the milk-stache from her upper lip. “He wanted to give it to you himself, but he said he was busy distracting a Chronophage.”

Jinx distracting a Chronophage alarmed me. Clockwork agents of time, sent to correct any undue changes to the time stream, meant that time had been altered in some significant way. Dimensiomancers, like my brother, spent most of their lives trying to avoid altercations with the Chronophages because their presence generally resulted in the unraveling of said Dimensiomancer. And from what Jinx had told me, it wasn’t a pretty way to go.

I just wish… wait a minute. My blood chilled at the thought that I might be the cause for the time shift somehow. Missing time was an indicator of a Mythic’s potential to become a Dimensiomancer. I wondered if my soul connection to Morgan, forged in the heat of a lightning strike, had unearthed that ability inside me. It would make sense, considering it was in my family’s soul line, and there had already been a spontaneous eruption of other dormant abilities since that bond was forged. This would just be one more. One that I was decidedly less happy about. I definitely needed to talk to Jinx about my blackouts. Unknowingly slipping into the fourth dimension could very easily get me or others killed.

“That’s interesting,” I said with a measured nod, before rummaging through the refrigerator for some coffee grounds. “I might have to check in on Jinx to make sure he’ll be okay.”

And if he is, my subconscious added, then I’ll kill him.

“He’ll be fine, Daddy,” chirped Astrid. “Did you want to hear more about Hathor’s menat?”

“Hathor’s what now?”

Astrid tapped the box. “Bree said it’s an ancient relic that predates the historic period.” So my daughter already knew she was dealing with a relic. Great. Sam was going to kill me if she found out.

“Uh, huh,” My brows furrowed as I retrieved the coffee grounds and put a pot on to brew. “Does Bree know Jinx gave the necklace to you to give to me?”

Bree has now been added to my need-to-be sacrificed-list. My inner Viking cheered.

“I guess so,” Astrid said, her face crumpling into a scowl as I tossed a glance her way. “You don’t seem very excited to hear about it.”

“Sure I am, but I think I’ll have to…” the words died in my throat. It would be better to berate Jinx, not Astrid, for something my brother was clearly to blame for. “Never mind Sweetie, tell me more about Hathor’s whatchamacallit.”

“It’s a menat Dad,” she corrected, motioning for me to sit down. I poured some cereal into a bowl from the cabinet, snagged a spoon from the drawer, and sat at the table to munch on my dry lunch as Astrid launched into her explanation. “Hathor is the cow-headed Egyptian goddess that was the matron of lots of stuff; Joy, motherhood and feminine love, those kinds of things. She also greeted the dead in the afterlife. She was a very important deity for her people. No one is quite sure if she originated in Egypt, though. Her exact origins are a mystery, but she was the first recorded deity to have a mechanical arm, made of mystical gears, that could control time and space. Neat, huh?”

I nodded. “She sounds a lot like Freya, Goddess of love and the Queen of the Valkyrie.”

“Funny that you bring that up, because Hathor masqueraded as Freya for a time,” Astrid said, leaning in, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial stage whisper. “Uncle Jinx and Bree were able to uncover ancient documents deep within the Akashic Records that told of Hathor’s travels to Greece from Egypt. There’s a story about Hathor befriending the Erinyes, who were created from the blood of Uranus, on the shores of Lemnos. Those same documents claim that she took on the moniker of Otrera and trained the women on the island as the first Amazons.”

“Okay, Astrid,” I said around a mouthful of flakey goodness, “I’m starting to feel like there’s going to be a test on ancient mythology later.”

“This isn’t just mythology, Dad,” huffed Astrid, with all the indignation of a true storyteller in the making. “I’m telling you about the history of the Amazons and Valkyrie. If you really wanted to understand where Morgan comes from, you could at least make the effort.” She paused long enough for me to give her an apologetic sigh and a nod before she continued. “So, when Freya found herself in Greece after looking for her lover Od, she and Hathor swapped places. Hathor traveled to Sweden in the guise of Freya, with a few Amazon followers who became the first Valkyrie. Freya took the name Aphrodite and became Queen of the Amazons that didn’t follow Hathor northward. But that’s not even the best part.”

“It isn’t?”

The blue around the smoky gray of Astrid’s irises expanded. A picture developed in my mind’s eye of a fiery haired, blue eyed woman. The image started as a painting and my consciousness was slowly pulled into the canvas. My dining room melted away into a vast desert, mud huts forming in a small cluster nearby, while the woman walked away from them, a hairless, pale skinned cat trailing her steps.

“Who is she?” I asked, softly, not wanting to disturb the masterpiece being painted.

“That is the Goddess Hathor,” I heard Astrid say from my side. “Doesn’t she look familiar?”

All I could do is stare, slack-jawed, at a drop dead ringer for Morgan. Her flesh was just a little more sun scorched, tawny skin glistening in the sunlight, giving her a golden sheen. Her arm length braid of hair resembled spun rose gold, trailing along her shoulder, as the tip swayed with each step she took. The metallic fingers of her right hand stroked the turquoise menat around her throat, causing it to rattle softly, musically. Hathor’s indigo eyes carried all the fierceness of a jungle cat ready to attack, though her sensual smile belied more carnal thoughts, as she slinked through the sands in a sheer linen long dress that accentuated her muscular physique. Her free hand lovingly stroked her bulbous belly, while a dark scabbard swayed counterpoint at her hips.

Realizing that Astrid was in my head, I tried to curb the follow up thoughts that threatened to alter the innocent scene. But I resolved to spend more time on them later, when I was alone. Hopefully with Morgan.

“Alright, Astrid, I get it. Morgan has a family resemblance to Hathor, which I have to admit was unexpected,” I reached out to clasp her shoulder, as the illusion dissipated and my dining room came sweeping back.

“You don’t sound very excited,” disappointed confusion colored her words.

“I’m sorry that I’m not as enthusiastic as you are, pumpkin. It’s just that every time I want to talk about Morgan’s past, she shuts me down. Even if what you’re showing me is true, it still doesn’t change the fact that she won’t share even as simple a detail with me as the name of her father.” I’d tried on several occasions to pry behind Morgan’s walls, to get her to open up to me about her past, but she always deflected. Usually with sex. She didn’t want to talk about it. Or, rather, she didn’t want to talk to me about it, and that stung.

“I know that she was battle born,” Astrid said, her irises returning to normal.

It took me a moment to figure out what Astrid meant. “You mean Morgan was born during an actual war? That’s craziness.”

“It’s the truth,” sighed Astrid. “I know this is a lot to understand all at once, but I also know you want to impress Morgan and I want to help as much as possible.”

Shock rendered me speechless as Astrid squeezed my hand in a sympathetic gesture before pushing away from the table. Collecting all of the dirty dishes, she carried them into the kitchen, leaving me with my thoughts. It was the first time Astrid and I had spoken at any length about Morgan and my pursuit of a relationship with her. But Astrid was right, Morgan was a massive conundrum to me. The reminder, once in a while, that I was dealing with a person who had lived longer than I could even comprehend was sobering.

The clattering of dishes in the sink drew my attention to Astrid just as my vision blurred and was replaced by a fuzzy clearing of grass. I hadn’t felt that sort of frenetic drawing from Morgan in a while, at least not since Primo’s concert three months prior, so I leapt to my feet and readied for a fight.

We Can Has Cover!

So let’s do a little update, shall we?

1st: We can has a cover!

Tadaaa! The ever so talented and amazing Robb Lombard did this for us and I have to say… get used to seeing that name, because we love what he’s done and are very much looking forward to having him work with us on future covers

2nd: We are currently in the final home stretch of edits with a final date set for 4/20/13.

3rd: We are SO grateful to everyone who took the time to test read and give us feedback, we know you’ll all be blown away by the changes we’re making (especially if you read the beta ) and we are so excited to bring this to you soon!

We promise, it’ll be worth the wait

 

~H.R.