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Roxanne Bland, Author
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Blackrose Press
ISBN-10: 0996731695
Type: Fiction
Pages: 338
Copyright: August 15, 2017
ISBN-13: 9780996731690
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
A vampire, a werewolf and a mage, unwillingly bound by a magick spell gone wrong, must find a way to break the tie that binds them, and with the help of an interstellar assassin, stop an alien invasion of Earth.
Kurt, vampire Master of Seattle, Garrett Larkin, mage of Balthus Coven and Parker Berenson, alpha of the city’s werewolf pack, are in a world of trouble. Already divided by love and jealousy, the three discover their auras are inextricably bound, the result of a spellcasting gone terribly wrong. Each one’s aura has been invaded by the auras of the others, and the consequences are both frightening and deadly. Worse yet, Shen’zae Melera, interstellar assassin and Parker’s love, has returned to Earth with dire news: she didn’t return alone. She’d been followed by her nemesis, Mag Beloc, and his fleet of warships. Even if Beloc recaptures her, Melera knows that Earth will suit his purposes, and that his presence may well become permanent. Drawn together by choice and fate while doing what they had to do, can Kurt, Garrett, and Parker now find a way to undo the magick that binds them, and with Melera, stop an alien invasion before it begins?
Excerpt
Chapter 1
For the second time in less than six months, Kurt, vampire regent and Master of Seattle, was terrified.
Fear turned to anger. This cannot be happening to me.
He stood in the dark before a wall-sized, plate glass window on the top floor of his office tower in downtown Seattle. Turning, he stepped over to a small lamp on his sculpted steel desk and switched it on. In the low light, the plate glass reflected everything in the room—except him. Baring his teeth, he swept his arm over the desk, sending the lamp crashing to the floor. His office was plunged into darkness again.
Kurt glared at the shattered lamp. It’s inexplicable. My powers are supposed to strengthen with age, not weaken. Yet here he was, losing the powers he’d nearly died twice to obtain.
His first indication that something was wrong happened about a month ago while dining at Harrow, his flagship restaurant. He and a client, Jack Hewitt, had been lunching in one of the restaurant’s private dining rooms. It had been a celebration on Kurt’s part for having closed a deal for a complete renovation of one of Hewitt’s sprawling luxury hotels to the tune of thirty-five million dollars. His thoughts drifted, remembering.
“A perfect lunch, Kurt,” Hewitt had said. He put his fork down on his now-empty plate.
“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Kurt had popped the last piece of filet mignon into his mouth. He chewed the morsel, and then tried to swallow. He choked, instead. He bent over the table, trying to dislodge the piece of steak that had gotten stuck in his throat.
“Kurt? Kurt,” Hewitt had shouted. “Oh, my God!” He’d leapt from his seat and ran around the table to where Kurt sat. Kurt had waved him away, but Hewitt hadn’t seemed to notice. Lifting him out of his seat, Hewitt had proceeded to perform the Heimlich maneuver, not knowing that the technique would be useless. Kurt had managed to dislodge the piece of food on his own, and spat it into his napkin.
Back in the present, he shivered as if to shake off the humiliating memory. Now, the only human foods he could manage were clear soups and wine.
Lips pursed, he reached for a bottle resting near the edge of the desktop and poured some of its contents into a large, heavy crystal goblet. Upending the cup, he drained the murky liquid, its slightly viscous texture coating his tongue and throat. When the cup was empty, he set the goblet back on the desk and fixed it with a baleful stare. “Nothing like a pint of blood to ruin a perfectly good wine,” he muttered.
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