by Gwynn White
Teeth gritted against the pain of his broken leg, he laid her gently on the deck and rocked back to assess her.
Limp body, heavy with water; bright red hair darkened and wet; mouth open; lips blue. Green eyes closed.
“I need to get the water from her lungs. Help me kneel,” Jorah snapped at Keahr.
The fae set her lamp on the deck and ran to him. He creaked down and shifted the hair from Aurora’s neck so he could feel for a pulse.
A white but unmistakable bite mark marred her skin.
Raith.
Anger surged through him, but he suppressed it. There would be time enough for revenge after he had done everything in his power to save his mate. He pressed his finger against her neck—and felt nothing.
Next, he pressed the heels of his hands on Aurora’s chest. It took three plunges before water trickled from her mouth.
No cough. No stirring that said she was alive.
Hands pumping, he pressed his lips to her icy ones and blew gently into her mouth.
Still nothing.
Keahr, kneeling next to him, sobbed.
On the other side of him, Niing puffed on an unlit pipe.
Even Zandor, face pale from his injury, knelt next to her. Only the cat ignored them.
“Come on, my nymph,” Jorah pleaded. “Don’t give up on me—us.”
She didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t flutter.
Despair settled like a heavy hand on him—and then his skin tingled. His wings, buried so deep, twitched as if waking from a long sleep. A familiar healing itch crept into his leg and his aching shoulder. He looked up to see the mermaid Guardian trailing behind them.
His magic was back!
Under his hands, Aurora coughed. Her back arched as her deathly blue lips gasped for air. A couple of gulps, and her breathing settled back into its natural rhythm.
Relief flooded Jorah. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed her.
He pulled back, shocked with himself.
And then her oak-green eyes flew open. Wild as her hair, she raked the faces circling her. “I—I’m alive?”
“Yes!” Keahr shouted through her tears. She fell down and hugged Aurora. “Thrilled. That’s what we all are.” She dropped a kiss onto Aurora’s lips.
Aurora patted her hair. “No more than I am, I assure you.” Her voice was as smooth as molten gold. “Now move so I can sit up.”
Keahr fell back.
Aurora sat up and frowned. “I feel different. Strong. I can breathe.” She touched her face. “Why?”
“Jorah!” Arwan shouted. “The Ryferians—they’re here.”
Jorah lunged to his feet to look. The ships were indeed bearing in on them.
Aurora clambered to her feet. Her hand flew to her mouth. “There are so many of them. What are we going to do?”
Jorah’s eyes narrowed to slits. Already changing form, he gave her his best reptilian smile. “We are going to sink the bastards.”
“Wait.” Fearless, despite the long black talons morphing from his knuckles. “Let me handle this.”
Longing to unleash a plume of fire at the closest ship, he peered down at her instead. “I love your enthusiasm, but you’ve never used your magic. Leave it to me and my remaining men. We’ll give those Untalented scum a trouncing they will never forget.”
She backhanded his stomach. “No! Enough people have died today. I will not let you kill every man on those ships.”
Smoke trailed from the sides of his mouth. “Aurora, they want you dead. They will never stop until they get that.”
Green eyes adamant, she snapped. “I know that. And I know some will have to die before they stop. But let me deliver that message. If it doesn’t work, then you and your crew can—do whatever you do.”
Jorah didn’t know whether to be angry or overjoyed at her resolve.
He waved a claw at the gathering Ryferian ships. “Crew, wait. This I want to see.”
Everyone on The Nautilus Spray froze.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Aurora expected her hands to tremble the way they always had when she was scared, or tired, or excited . . . or anything. They remained still and steady despite every eye on her.
With Jorah morphing into a magnificent black dragon with golden scales and feathered plumes trailing his back on one side of her, and Zandor in his centaur form on the other, she dove deep into herself, searching, waiting for . . .
There it was . . . her magic. It had lain dormant for so long.
It stirred, answering her call.
And not a moment too soon. If she was ever to be taken seriously by anyone—especially the dragon circling above the ship—she had to prove that she was more than just an Infirm girl with a loose tongue.
She snatched at the blossoming within, but it slipped away from her grasp.
A gentle touch, she told herself.
Again, she reached in—only to sense fingers reaching back at her from the deep.
Excitement trilled through her. Careful not to drive them away, she let her mind drift, imagining the water lapping the barnacled hull. Her mind nudged the seaweed drifting below the caravel.
Come to me, she pleaded to ribbon-like strands.
The weeds swayed toward her.
Go away.
Again, they obeyed.
She opened her eyes and called out, “Surround the closest ship!” She wasn’t sure if they would obey a verbal command. She wasn’t sure of anything with this new power.
The water rippled, then bubbled against the sides of the leading Ryferian ship as if it were boiling. Great gouts of water erupted as lengths of seaweed as thick as her limbs burst from the surface like serpents from the deep.
She threw back her head in wonder. They had obeyed her!
She turned her focus inward, to the magic humming in her veins like fire. She pushed more of it at the plants, imagining them sliding onto the ship, grasping it like a shell in a fist.
The plants responded.
In her mind’s eye, magic, bright as sunlight, flowed unfettered and powerful around her. She pictured weaving it through her fingers, feeling it writhe and dance with her every thought as she controlled the seaweed. It was all she could do not to close her eyes and revel in the power.
The screams of her countrymen cut her pleasure short.
Some jumped into the churning water. Others tried desperately to hack away at the seaweed with their swords. But for every bough they cut, three more took its place. More and more men dove off the ship. There, at her command, her weeds ignored them.
She raised her hands high as a crescendo of magic rushed through her.
She was a queen. A traitor. A rebel.
A dryad.
And she wasn’t going down without a fight.
She curled her fingers in, folding them into her palms, and wondered what the seaweed would do.
It closed its fist around the ship. Wood cracked. The last few men on the deck screamed, giving up hope of cutting themselves free.
“Enough!” she commanded.
The seaweed sank beneath the sea, taking the broken ship with it.
The water stilled as the mast, the last visible part, snapped and disappeared under the waves.
No one moved. Not aboard Jorah’s ship, or the eleven remaining Ryferian ships that came to a halt behind the Guardian line.
Trembling like a leaf, she yelled at the top of her voice, “Just you wait, Artemis! Enjoy being king while it lasts. I’m coming back for my kingdom!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Raith huddled with Carian on the side of the hill above the mermaid Guardian. Neither of them said anything as the moon cast a ghostly glow on a broken ship wreathed in seaweed. It sank into the inky black.
Aurora had found her magic.
Still, the taste of her blood lingered on his tongue. Just enough to drive him insane, but not enough to give him power.
He closed his eyes. I will find you, little princess, and t
hen I’ll suck each of your friends dry. He clenched his fists. And then I’ll tear into your precious Jorah and take his dragon magic from him, as you watch. And then I will sup on you.
Carian slapped him on the back. “Come. Time to go back to the city. We have a potion to brew and Magical to reap.”
Raith stumbled after his brother, ready to drink whatever Carian offered if it gave him what he wanted.
Chapter Fifty
Aurora stood on the prow of The Nautilus Spray, watching her homeland, a mere speck of light on the horizon, vanish from view.
“A new beginning.” Jorah’s low voice.
A thousand butterflies swooped through her belly at the sound of it. She turned awkwardly to face him, hopelessly aware that she was falling in love with him. Love he didn’t return.
He had changed back into his human form—and devilishly handsome he was, with his shoulder-length blond hair and powerful body. Heat pooled in her stomach for him. If things had not gone so horribly wrong, they would be married. Now they were just two people locked together on the high seas for the week it would take them to get to Warrendyte. She wasn’t sure she could handle being in such close proximity with Jorah Thalyn and not touch him, kiss him—
Generally make a fool of myself.
She swallowed. “A scary beginning, you mean.”
He stood right next to her. In her personal space. Those butterflies took flight. His blue eyes hooked her, but not like Raith’s had. With Jorah, she could look away at any time. She didn’t want to.
A small crooked smile. “You delivered that message well, my nymph.”
His nymph? Another hard swallow to rid her throat of a lump the size of the caravel. She found her voice. “It saddens me that people died.”
“I know. But they won’t be so keen to go after you again. That is why we use violence.”
She nodded, far too aware of the blond hair on his arm tickling her skin. “You are quite a sight in dragon form.” She coughed a laugh. “I like it. A lot.”
He grinned. “Do you now?”
A shrug. She closed her eyes against her feelings for him. Giving in to them would just lead to heartbreak.
Time to take control here.
She fixed him with a sharp gaze. “Will the council in Warrendyte help me?”
A long sigh from Jorah. “That’s . . . complicated.”
“Meaning?”
“I struck a contract with a water fae named Sabrisia that I would kill Raith and then marry you. As king of Ryferia, I would have removed the Guardians. With that done, I could return to Warrendyte a free man. The council would have sent an emissary to manage our interests in Ryferia.”
He would have just upped and left her? Where was the honor in that?
He touched her face with a gentle finger. It irked when her skin sent out a thousand delicious shivers. She pulled away, scowling.
“Don’t look so angry, nymph. I didn’t know you then.”
“And now?”
He canted his head. “You don’t ask what will happen now that I didn’t win your hand?”
She tucked her hands into her sleeves to stop herself from saying, Here, have one. “No doubt you will tell me.”
A soft laugh. “Sabrisia can claim my life.”
Her jaw dropped before she could stop it. “Over my dead body.” She blushed, mortified that she had exposed such raw passion for him.
His hand touched his heart. “I thank you for your care, but fear not. Sabrisia thinks she can fight against a dragon and win.” A grunt. “She’s a fool who didn’t stipulate a timeframe.”
“So . . . she won’t harm you?”
“Which brings us to your quest.”
Aurora leaned in closer, uncertain how this all fit together.
He pointed to the sky. “The solstice. From tomorrow, Sabrisia takes over the chair on the Warrendyte council. She will bay for my blood.”
Aurora closed her eyes again, suddenly exhausted by all the politics she did and didn’t understand. She whispered, “I had hoped Warrendyte would be . . . kinder than Ryferia.”
A snort. “Fae. They can be arrogant, capricious, and cruel. Too many of them think the sun rises and sets for their personal benefit. Sabrisia is one of the worst. She will hate you for no other reason than that I like you.” He took her hand. “A lot.”
Her skin tingled even though she wasn’t sure if he meant that Sabrisia would hate her a lot or that he liked her a lot. As his thumb turned small circles on her hand, she figured it was both.
“So, it is unlikely she will hand me an army?”
A slow smile. “You forget the parasite. He’s our . . . how can I put this? Our ticket to success.” His face hardened. “His death has merely been delayed, but that will be enough to put a thousand shades of fear into the council in Warrendyte. After he has supped in Ryferia, a dragon will be the only force powerful enough to take him. I am the only dragon left in Warrendyte.”
It was her turn to sigh. “Who would have imagined an incubus could be an ally—however unwittingly.”
“Indeed. And don’t forget, no matter what happens, I promised you my sword.” He leaned back against the railing on the prow and looked at her. His steady blue gaze made her blush. He smiled, then brushed a curl off her face. “I find myself conflicted. You are nothing like Lila, yet . . .”
Her pulse sped up. Hating that she was so needy, she asked, “Yet?”
“Yet I have an overwhelming need to—” His head dipped, and he brushed her lips with his.
She gasped.
He smiled, feathering her lips. She clutched his shirt with both hands to stop from swaying, and also because she wanted to touch him. His stomach was hard beneath her fingers.
His arm wrapped around her waist. Then a tug, and she was pulled tight to him. His tongue slipped into her mouth. With soft, gentle strokes, he sought hers. She gave it to him, reveling in the taste of him.
The sweeps became harder, more demanding. She was happy to give him exactly what he asked for. And she took what she wanted—the opportunity to run her hands down his back, to feel his silky, soft skin, such a contrast to the muscles rippling under her fingers.
A low, bubbling laugh, and then he broke away from her. Still holding her in his arms, he said, “We will take on Warrendyte together.”
Heart pounding, she smiled back. “We can’t fail.” She faced the east, toward the Pearl Sea, where an unknown isle awaited. Would she find favor there, or would Jorah’s warning about the mysterious Sabrisia prove her undoing?
Magic nipped at her, a reminder that no matter what she faced, she was a dryad, a powerful one for whom the plants would bend.
Whatever Sabrisia threw at her, she would be equal to it.
THE END
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Continue the Queen of Extinction trilogy in book two, Queen of Destruction available for preorder on Amazon from the 24 January 2017.
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About the Authors
Gwynn White is a New York Times bestselling author of fantasy novels set on distant planets. All her stories have an adventure at the heart, mixed with a liberal sprinkling of romance and intrigue. To confuse things, she also writes adventure travel books set firmly on planet Earth. Weird, but it makes her tick. She lives in Western Australia with her husband, Andrew, three daughters, a yapping Toy Pomeranian, and a fantastic farm cat called Pixel. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, traveling, herding kids around, taking dogs for walks, and avoiding all cooking.
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https://www.amazon.com/Gwynn-White/e/B0089TDV8C/
http://www.gwynnwhite.com/
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Erin St Pierre is a twenty-year-old author and world traveler. South African born, she has lived in three different countries on three different continents. Still, that is not enough. She wants to travel the world, writing, drinking hot chocolate, and eating cheese
cake. She currently lives in Western Australia (who knows how long that will last) with the best cat in the world. She started writing at around fifteen or sixteen, and Queen of Extinction is her first published work. And it will definitely not be her last.
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My Soul to Stalk
Norma Hinkens
My Soul to Stalk © 2016 Norma Hinkens
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. For more information about the author, please visit www.normahinkens.com
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Text copyright @ 2016 Norma Hinkens
All rights reserved.
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No part of the book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
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Published by Dunecadia Publishing, California
About My Soul to Stalk
Can Kyra overcome the powerful forces of darkness operating against her before her soul is taken?
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KYRA WILLIAMS has carved out the perfect life until a near-fatal car accident triggers a bizarre encounter with the spiritual realm and an ominous warning from a mysterious stranger: Beware the Soul Stalkers.
Plagued by inner voices, terrifying dreams and inexplicable events, the young agnostic’s high stakes career implodes in an instant and her world spins out of control. Is she losing her mind, or is she caught in the crosshairs of hell and the bloodthirsty Soul Stalkers?
