One month away from release day for The Playing With Fire Boxset!!!
Im totally in love with my writing at the moment - I hope you can feel the mojo in my recent WIP return. The first few chapters are off to my beta reader, and I am anxious. It has been a while since Ive been able to write without the doubt monkey sitting on my back. So I'm sharing an excerpt of Chapter for today in hopes you feel the loved in my work too!
 GIVEAWAY My moodboard | EXCERPT FROM TO CURSE A KINGDOM The bang of wood against stone reverberates down the passageways; the sound of a staff weapon hitting the ground. “Stop standing there opened-mouthed like two frightened maidens. Go now, or you will have something more than a baby beast to fear.” It is Erik; Khan would recognize his voice anywhere. It is the voice of the man who took him from his father’s beating fists on the day of his mother was found dead. The man who has fed and clothed him for the last four years. The man who talked him down from his demonic transformation as a child and taught him how to stay human. The man who trained him in weaponry and combat; to show discipline in times of high stress. Khan’s heart sinks - Erik is also the man that stood by as his father tricked him, and lead him into a trap. The man who told the watchman to chop off his head. Prince Khan snaps from his macabre thoughts as Erik speaks, “Go get the king, watchmen; take him to his chambers. You might need to seek out Birger for assistance.” “Oh,” one of them replies. Khan knew what that meant. Birger literally means keeper in Viking. He is the biggest of all the king’s chevalier and made useful mostly to escort a very drunken king - and by escort, it meant to carry the king. Khan had seen his father carried past the tower doors almost every night following his mother’s death. It is only of late the king had tried to sober up. But now Kahn knows the reasoning behind his father’s attempted to sober up. The king kept a sober mind long enough to devise his plan to steel Ashlan away from the future heir - him. When the watchmen don’t move down the passage quick enough, Erik calls after them. “Move with haste you idiots, his harem lay in wait. If King Ivor passes out before his last romp, it will be your funerals we attend tomorrow.” “Sir.” There is uncertainty in silver beard’s gruff voice; then he takes it back quickly. “Nothing, sir.” As the men go about their instructions, Khan catches a whiff of a familiar scent; so intoxicating it takes all his strength not to reveal himself. His racing heart always chances gear when Ahslan is around, and the closer she gets to him, the harder and faster it pounds. To such an extent Khan imagines it might explode through his ribcage or leap from his throat. His tail’s coil tightens, the beam creaking in protest. Khan quickly recoils back into the dark domed ceiling as Erik and Ashlan hurry past. Ashlan’s eyes dart toward the Well-room as if she knows he is there. If Khan has to be honest, he feels it too. The undeniable bond that tethers them to each other - like the earth and the moon that could not exist without one another. Forever in each other’s orbit. Khan is the earth admiring the surreal beauty of the moon, and without the moon, there is no light during the dark times. His heart a tide that breathes by the bloom of her moon. |
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