Apologies for my long silence here on GR, but I've been on vacation these last two weeks, resting and recharging my batteries for Book 2 of Counterpoint, on which I did a fair amount of writing while away.

Something fun for everyone happened while I was gone, though: my publisher put up a whole raft of extras for those who purchased the Counterpoint ebook or the print and ebook combo directly from the Guiltless Pleasure Publishing website. All you need to do is click the link and log in to see original concept cover art, trivia, and a bunch of deleted scenes. Be sure to check back often as more extras are added! And for those of you who did not purchase the Counterpoint ebook through GPP, here's a freebie (warning: spoilers ahead!):


***SPOILERS BELOW THIS LINE***


OUTTAKE: EATING STRAWBERRIES

An early "tender moment" between Ayden and Freyrík. This originally took place during their time together in the palace, before the arrival of the First Wife. Some parts of this scene have been reworked into a battlefield meal they now share toward the end of the war (with apples and honey instead of strawberries and cream).

Here's the original:

Lunch was a light and leisurely affair, three simple courses in the tiny trellised south corner of the bailey, red and pink and white and yellow roses blooming all up and down the latticework that hid their little table from curious eyes. For once, Freyrík did not feel the press of time as a great weight upon his chest; battle plans had been drawn and put into motion, his subjects had been heard, and preparation for Harvest Fest had already begun outside the castle curtains. He was content now to relax, to drink in the sun and the fresh air and the heady scent of a thousand flowers, to watch the bees floating in their clunky zigzags from one rose to the next . . . but only, of course, in those rare moments when he could pry his eyes from Ayden.

Ayden's focus seemed just as agreeably scattered as Freyrík's, and as he drew his attention to one thing or another, it seemed almost as if he were drawing its attention to him as well: a rose petal drifting onto his plate, a songbird perching on the arm of his chair, a ladybug crawling across his thumb. Even a dog showed up from somewhere—a ropy-haired, lap-sized creature that had presumably escaped from one of his cousins or nieces—and laid contentedly at Ayden's feet. Ayden fed it from his plate with the sort of wistful smile that made Freyrík wonder whether he had a pet of his own back home.

They finished their meal in amicable silence. Servants cleared their plates away, then brought out sliced strawberries and little bowls of cream and sugar to dip them in.

Ayden bit into one and made a noise that went straight to Freyrík's cock. "Gods," he said, eyes fluttering closed as he dipped another and popped it into his mouth. "I'd forgotten how good these are. Ours won't ripen for weeks yet."

"Yes, well," Freyrík cleared his throat, hooked his feet behind the legs of his chair lest he launch himself over the table and steal the next berry straight from Ayden's mouth with his tongue, "the Aegean empire is vast, and the southern climes are very different from our own. Trade thrives between our nation states."

Ayden licked a drop of cream off his finger, and Freyrík balled his fists into his thighs and spelled the names of all sixteen Aegean trade ministers backwards in his head until he no longer feared to pop the buttons on his breeches.

"So," he blurted when he was done, loud enough to startle Ayden . . .