Favorite excerpt and snippet

Slowly working through the current book and ran across a scene by a pair of my favorite characters that made me smile.

Roscoe and Ghost are a pair who came out of nowhere in one of the Shea's books and have just refused to go away. Their ridiculousness is something I look forward to.

Snippet

“Shall we make a bet?” Ghost asked in a cheerful tone. “How many bites does it take to bring down a Lion?”

Roscoe and Ghost ambled closer. There were playful smiles on their faces as they watched xxxx with an avarice that said they’d found a toy they looked forward to breaking.

Eva could almost feel sorry for the man. Maybe if he hadn't been so rude and objectionable she would have. 

“Why bet when we already know the outcome?” Roscoe asked.

“Ah, but we don’t know how many bones Sebastian will break in the process.” 

Roscoe pretended to think it over. “Alright, I bet two ribs and at least one broken limb.”

Xxx’s expression got even more freaked out. “Alright! I get it. I was wrong. Are you done?”

Ghost gave Roscoe a quizzical look. “I don’t know, Roscoe. Are we done?”

“Naw. We’re having too much fun.” Roscoe propped a foot on a small bit of debris and leaned his elbow on his knee. “Besides, the kyren’s caller is sure to appreciate our defense, don’t you think?”

Ghost had a thoughtful look on his face. “I see your point. I’ve been waiting to ride a kyren again. Think this means she’ll put in a good word for us?”

Tiny snippet

I thought you guys deserved a snippet on this Monday. I hope you enjoy.

P.S. This hasn't gone through the final rounds of edits

Snippet

 Ilith peered through the bars, nudging the cage. Terrified humans huddled on the ground.

They’re alive, Tate said in relief.

Ilith nodded once. Of course they were. She was the one to save them.

Her head tilted. How were they supposed to get out? She didn’t see a way for them to fit through the narrow opening.

Don’t—

Tate was too late as Ilith unsheathed a claw, bending the metal to create an opening large enough for a puny human to pass through.

That is rather terrifying on so many levels, Tate said around a sigh.

Nonsense. The humans were grateful for her help. Look at the way they quivered.

That’s called fear.

Ilith ignored her negative savior, humming to herself as she looked from the opening to the humans, waiting. 

Hmm. Why weren't they moving? Perhaps they were stupider than the ones she was used to since they couldn’t even figure out such a simple thing as this.

Ilith decided to help by showing them, reaching into the opening with a sharp claw. They wiggled in delight. Ilith appreciated their awe but it was making her job difficult. Finally she managed to snag her claw on one of their shirts, dragging her prey out of the opening. 

She set him down on his feet and then looked expectantly at the rest. They fought each other for the honor of scrambling through the exit she’d made first. 

Good. They were learning. 

Looks like you’re not the only one who can be a savior, Ilith told Tate.

Threshold of Annihilation Snippet

If I've done my math right, it's ten days and a wake up until Threshold of Annihilation goes live. Since we're getting close, I thought you guys deserved a small sneak peek. Please enjoy!

(Small caveat -- the book is still with my proof reader so there might be some small typos.)

Chapter One

"Why don't you say that again," Raider suggested in a deceptively soft voice.

The man who had served at her side for years, through thick and thin, during a war that threatened to decimate the human race seemed calm. Serene even. Unnaturally so, given the life-altering revelation that he had a daughter he’d never known with a woman long since thought dead in said war.

It was his eyes that gave him away. They burned with suppressed emotion.

Raider was on the brink, and Kira was standing directly in the blast zone.

The waif responsible for this whole mess kicked her feet from where she was seated beside Kira, utterly unconcerned over the repercussions of her dramatic revelation.

Oh, to be young and convinced of your own invincibility again.

Years of planning wiped clean by a few careless words.

Kira had known this day was coming. If she was honest with herself, this showdown had been inevitable from the instant Kira learned of Elena's existence and chose not to track Raider down to inform him that his and Elise's love bore physical fruit.

It didn't make the coming explosion any easier to take.

You didn't drop a bomb the magnitude of the one she just had and expect to walk away unscathed.

There were consequences to your actions. No matter how you struggled, they always came due.

This was the calm before the storm. You could see it on the horizon, feel the gathering pressure in the air, but there was no way to outrun it. No way to hide from it. All you could do was batten down the hatches and pray that the storm would leave you battered and bruised but otherwise alive.

Kira’s uncle frowned unhappily from his spot next to the doorway. Piercing golden eyes lingered on Elena. "I'm interested in hearing this as well."

The Overlord of House Roake was built like an armored tank. Power was written in every line of his body and stamped on his features.

A stranger to Kira until recently, even she could admit the family resemblance between them was unmistakable. They looked like father and daughter rather than uncle and niece.

The line of their noses and the stubborn jut of their jaws were nearly identical. It was the hair, however, that clinched it. A distinctive deep wine color that verged on burgundy.

A vertical scar bisected Harlow's eyebrow, narrowly missing the eye before dragging down his cheek. Already physically imposing, the scar made Harlow even more intimidating. Kira was betting none who served him ever questioned his orders. One hard stare would have his warriors swallowing any protests.

Of those present, Harlow was the one most likely to understand why Kira had chosen this course. Why she'd made the decisions she had. Like her, he hadn't lived an easy life.

He’d been forced to assume leadership of a broken House when an attack from a shadowy organization had left his twin brother dead and his baby niece stolen.

He knew sometimes choices had to be made that hurt the people around you, even as it kept them alive.

House Roake had not only survived but thrived under his leadership.

Already she could see him doing the calculations and arriving at answers that threatened her future wellbeing.

Elena frowned. "Auntie, you never told me the sperm donor had a hearing problem."

"Not helping," Kira told her niece in a sing-song voice.

Elena harrumphed, folding her arms over her chest.

Raider pointed at Kira. "Explain. Now."

At that, a mischievous expression crossed Elena’s face. "Didn't anybody ever teach you that pointing is rude, sperm donor?"

Raider's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, holding onto his temper by a thread. He kept his gaze locked on Kira, not acknowledging his daughter's existence.

Mistake, Raider.

Elena might have biologically come from Elise, but there was a lot of Kira and Jin in her. Evidently, nurture was as important as nature when it came to personality, and a few of Kira and Jin's less than desirable traits had rubbed off on her, including the fact that none of them reacted particularly well to being ignored.

Sensing the danger, Jin inserted himself between the two. "Let's all stay calm."

In a universe filled with odd things, Jin's existence was unique unto itself. Once a Tuann boy in the same hellish camp as Kira, Jin's soul was now housed in a military combat drone that took the shape of a sphere the size of Kira's head.

He was Kira’s best friend, her partner in crime. He’d saved her life and sanity more times than she can count.

"Don't tell me to stay calm, Tin Can." Raider's composed mask shredded, leaving him looking vaguely homicidal. "You don't get to say that to me. Not when you knew about this."

Jin was silent in the face of Raider’s accusation. Guilt and regret filtered through Kira and Jin's bond, his feelings tangling with Kira's complicated ones.

There was a kernel of hurt Kira buried almost as soon as it registered—especially in light of all the progress they’d made at rebuilding their relationship in the past weeks.

With that hurt came resignation. She knew she deserved his recriminations. She’d made decisions on his behalf that she had no business making.

"Are you going to say anything?" Raider snapped at Kira.

Emotion clogged Kira’s throat as she sought for the words to make this right. An impossible task. Where would she even start?

"She can't." Elena kicked her feet, unconcerned by the imminent explosion.

Graydon finally stirred from his place in the doorway. "What do you mean by that?"

There was something about the man known as the Emperor’s Face that always made Kira feel like she was standing on the edge of a storm front, watching it roll in, breathless at the magnitude of what she was facing. The cloud formations would be ominous, even as they whispered to the adrenaline junky inside. How much fun would she have pitting herself against its fury?

He was handsome. Almost brutally so with the kind of presence that punched you in the chest. Dark hair framed features that contained a harsh edge that drew the eye.

It was a good thing he rarely ventured into human space. The paparazzi there would have been all over him otherwise. Photos of him would have spawned a renewed interest in stories about human women falling in love with powerful and dangerous aliens.

Graydon didn't need any more reason to be arrogant. His ego was already big enough.

Kira wasn't a small woman, but Graydon towered over her. He was six feet plus of pure muscle, not an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen.

Memories of how exactly Kira came by that knowledge drifted through her brain before she firmly shoved them into the box marked "things you are to never think about".

Kira looked in time to see Elena aim a sweet smile at Graydon.

"She made a promise. Auntie always keeps her promises."

Faint amusement touched Graydon’s face. "Is that right?"

"Elena," Kira warned.

Her niece was getting too close to secrets Kira didn’t want getting out. Beyond the fact it could place Elena in danger, there were others Kira protected. A few of whom would stop at nothing to bury the past. Kira wasn't certain even she could rescue Elena if they started to move.

"Please continue." Graydon sauntered across the room, sprawling in the copilot's seat opposite her niece. He aimed a conspiring look at Elena.

Like a flower drawn to the sun, Elena leaned toward him.

The sight snapped Kira into the present. She stepped between the two and shook her head. "Nope. Not going to happen."

Elena frowned up at her, but Kira didn't budge. Elena could sulk all she liked, but Kira knew exactly how irresistible Graydon was when he wanted to be. No way was she going to let him charm her niece into revealing dangerous information. That way lay disaster.

Kira narrowed her eyes at Graydon as she considered him carefully. What exactly was he up to?

There was none of the anger she'd anticipated. The disgust she'd braced herself for, even as she regretted the loss of midnight strolls that lulled her into losing all semblance of reason. The drugging kisses that made her think "what if".

Yet despite expectations, he was acting as if nothing had changed. Almost like he'd known all along.

Hope tried to bloom before she ruthlessly squashed it.

Graydon was the consummate hunter. There was every chance he was simply playing a part and masking his thoughts. Lives other than her own depended on her actions. She couldn't risk the others because she was lonely and tired and wanted someone to help her shoulder the burden. Not take it from her, but lighten the load when things got hard.

Kira shored up her defenses, rebuilding them inch by inch. Only when she felt in control again did she focus on Graydon. She stilled as she caught something in his expression. Something that seemed to say, "Gotcha. I see you now, and there's no escape."

Before Kira could react, Graydon's attention settled on her niece. "You were saying?"

Elena answered without hesitation. "The kind of promises people kill to keep."

Kira blew out a frustrated breath as she aimed her eyes at the ceiling. Perhaps this was her punishment for a youth spent purposely antagonizing Himoto and other authority figures. She loved Elena like her own, but lord, she could try the patience of a saint.

Suddenly, Kira had way more sympathy for the young Himoto who'd gotten stuck raising her.

"I suddenly have so many regrets about our youth," Jin grumbled.

Kira agreed.

"This isn't possible," Raider insisted suddenly. "Elise and I never had kids. I would have known."

Elena's gaze dropped, some of her bravado draining as she shrank in her seat.

Regret moved through Kira. Elena had always known about her father. Kira and Jin had each made a point of telling Elena stories about Raider and Elise. Neither of them had had parents or memories to keep them company, and they didn't want that fate for Elena. Circumstances had separated her niece from her parents, and the least Kira and Jin could do was keep their spirit alive.

Perhaps that had been a mistake. If they hadn't, Elena wouldn't have built this encounter up in her head. She wouldn't be hurting now as she learned that fantasies rarely matched up to reality.

Too late now.

Kira cast her eyes around the bridge, hoping for an answer. There were none to be had. It was time for the truth.

Kira cleared her throat, forcing her emotions into their respective boxes.

"The Gregory detail."

Raider's lips pressed closed, his expression going blank.

"She was gone nearly six months, remember?"

Raider rubbed his head as he stared unseeing at the bridge of the Wanderer.

She could see the wheels starting to turn. He had all the pieces; he simply needed to put them together.

"She was distant for a month or two before that," Raider said distantly. "She was always busy; she barely had time for me. I thought it was because of the op tempo."

Kira nodded.

Raider wasn't the only person Elise had avoided in the months leading up to the detail. She'd pulled back from everyone. Even Kira.

"The mission was a cover story. Instead of the escort detail we thought she'd been tapped for, she headed to the planet Rosetta where she gave birth. Afterward, she returned to duty with no one the wiser."

"Why didn't she tell me?" Quiet devastation lurked in Raider’s eyes.

Kira mutely shook her head. She didn't know. Even all these years later, Kira could only guess at Elise's reasoning.

Kira could understand concealing the pregnancy and giving birth in secret. Elise's identity had practically demanded such precautions. Keeping it from Raider and Kira, the two people she would have sworn Elise trusted unreservedly? Kira never expected that.

But Elise had, leaving Kira to deal with the fallout all these years later.

Raider looked at Kira like she'd betrayed him. Like she'd walked up and sunk a blade in his gut.

A part of her shriveled seeing that look on his face, the same one he’d had when he learned Elise had perished in the battle for Rothchild.

The worst part was she couldn’t even defend herself.

While she hadn't known about Elena then, Kira also hadn't taken steps to correct the wrong in the years since she’d discovered Elena’s existence. She’d been too hindered by fear of the Tsavitee finding out about Elena and guilt she’d survived Rothchild when her Curs hadn’t.

Even now, Kira wasn't sure she would have done anything differently. Not when the result was sitting right next to her, disobedient pain in the ass though she was.

"It's because the girl is Tuann, isn't it?" Harlow folded his massive arms over his chest, leveling a hard stare on Kira. "You told me you were the only one rescued."

"Technically true. I was the only one rescued."

Well, with the exception of Jin, but Kira couldn't say that without revealing Jin's special circumstances.

When Himoto and his team saved Kira, they'd also brought with them the drone lying beside her, thinking it would answer some of the questions they had about the smoldering stretch of forest surrounding her.

It did, just not in the way they'd expected.

Understanding dawned in Graydon's expression. "The others escaped."

Gold star to the Emperor's Face.

Truthfully, Kira wasn't surprised he was the one to figure it out. He was entirely too perceptive for Kira's peace of mind. Also, he'd had access to a small slice of Kira's memories. It wasn't much to go on, but it was enough for a man like Graydon.

In the back of her mind, she had to ask herself what else he'd managed to glean from that brief trip down memory lane.

At that thought, Kira shot an accusing glare toward Jin, the being responsible for Graydon venturing where he had no business being.

Jin whistled to himself, rotating so the primary lens on his casing was facing away from her.

"How many survived?"

Kira’s expression turned stubborn.

Harlow’s eyes narrowed at her refusal. "They're our stolen children. They deserve to be protected."

Maybe so.

Only problem was they weren't little kids. They’d grown used to relying on themselves.

Kira didn't think they would react well to the Tuann's version of love, which could be considered overbearing with a side of patronizing on a good day.

"Have we treated you so shabbily that we deserve this level of distrust?" Harlow demanded.

The simple answer was no.

When she'd first been forced into House Roake, she'd been certain she'd obtain her freedom in short order. Instead, she'd found a place and people that felt astonishingly like home.

The Tuann were hardheaded and arrogant, thinking they always knew best. It was something they and Kira had in common. Despite that—or maybe because of it—they called to the lost, broken pieces of her.

But the others weren't like her. They weren't looking for a home or friends. Those who wanted those things already had them, and the rest were so broken that trying to fit them into the Tuann rules would cause them to lash out.

If she revealed who they were, the Tuann would spare no effort in reclaiming their lost progeny. She didn't have to be a fortune teller to know how that would end—with blood and mayhem and a whole lot of hurt feelings on both sides.

Better if that never happened.

Elena planted a boot on the deck and swiveled her chair side to side. "It's not her decision. The others don't want to be found right now."

Harlow's gaze dropped to her niece. "What do you mean?"

Elena sat forward eagerly. "Shall I tell you a story?"

"No." Kira sent her a warning look.

Rebellion flared in Elena's expression. "You made promises, Auntie, but I didn't."

"Don't you dare," Kira growled.

"Let her speak." Raider's gaze held Kira’s, a silent dare there. "You owe me."

Kira shook her head. He didn't know what he was asking.

Elena ignored Kira, bouncing in her chair with excitement. "It all began long ago on the night Auntie and Uncle Jin were rescued."

Kira held in a groan. Why, why, why, couldn't she have raised an obedient child?

A soft rumble of amusement came from Graydon. Kira stiffened but didn't look away from the ceiling.

"The others had planned their escape for weeks. That night Uncle Jin failed a test and was thrown into a punishment cell. The rest knew escaping from there would be impossible. They regretted his loss but not enough to postpone their plans. Only Auntie was willing to sacrifice herself for him."

Harlow had a frown on his face as he studied Kira and Jin, suspicion moving through his eyes.

Kira's expression smoothed out, no hint of emotion revealing what she was thinking. This right here was reason number one why she would have preferred this story remain buried.

Someone smart would be able to take what was revealed and read through the lines, arriving at a truth that only a handful of people had ever touched upon.

Because Jin hadn't always been a machine, made of metal and spare parts. Once he'd been flesh and blood, just like her.

Kira readied herself, prepared to defend Jin and Elena if Harlow or Graydon decided they were monsters to be exterminated. It'd kill something inside of her to hurt either one of them, but she'd do it.

Blissfully unaware of the danger, Elena continued, "When the others fled, Auntie and Uncle Jin made their own escape. For years, each group suspected the other had perished that night, but they had no proof. Then the war with the Tsavitee came, and out of its ashes a woman known as the Phoenix rose to acclaim. Hearing the stories, the others sent someone to investigate."

"Elise," Raider said.

Elena nodded happily. "Yes, Mother."

Kira's expression was carefully blank as Raider studied her.

"They feared this unknown woman would expose their existence—or worse, that she was a trap laid by their former captors," Elena said. "Never in their wildest dreams did they think they'd find the two they'd abandoned."

Nor were they entirely happy when they did.

By then, Kira and Jin had made a name for themselves, drawing attention from the very sort of people the others wanted to avoid.

"Mother had orders to stage the Phoenix's death and bring her into the fold where it was safe. Only, the Phoenix refused to go, and not even Mother could force her."

Raider focused on his daughter as he compared Elena to the woman he'd once known

Physically, Elena was an almost exact replica of her mother. Enough so that Kira had been tempted to think she was a cleverly designed clone when they'd first met. Jin had been the one to assure her he'd found genetic material in her DNA that could only have come from Raider.

Her ears were as pointed as Elise's and Kira's had once been before they were docked. She had the same delicate features, complete with a pert nose, lips in the shape of a cupid's bow, and a pointed chin that only made her look more mischievous.

"Mother struck a deal with the rest. No matter how bad the war got or how much she needed help, the Phoenix would never reveal their existence by word or deed. She would face her enemies alone with no help from the rest."

What Elena left out—because she didn't know—was the fact that Elise had tried to kill Kira a time or two before they came to that happy compromise.

While Elise was the sister of Kira's heart now, she hadn't always been that way.

Not that Kira blamed her or the rest. At that time, she'd been an unknown entity, and their existence was precarious.

None of them had wanted to chance being someone's science experiment again.

Kira understood.

There was no way she could assure them that humans wouldn't resurrect the project again, their aim to create a super-soldier.

Alone, Kira had been deemed a freak, her abilities mostly kept under wraps and categorized as top secret, courtesy of Himoto. Only people like Raider and the Curs knew the full extent of what she could do. Everyone else had simply thought there was a new weapon or that the Curs were exceptionally lucky.

If the others came forward, the Consortium might have considered how they could replicate their abilities, and then the whole nightmare would have started again.

Knowing how painful this subject was for her, Elena slipped her hand into Kira's and squeezed. "Mother couldn't abandon the Phoenix so she joined her. For a time, the Phoenix and Sunshine were happy. Then Mother became pregnant. Sunshine knew a child of hers would draw the attention of those who sought nothing but death and destruction. To protect her child, she hid her—even from her lover and sister. In fact, she hid the child so well that it took the Phoenix and Tin Man years to find her again."

Raider was quiet as his gaze lifted to Kira's. "Did you know back then?"

"Raider," Kira started.

"Did you?"

"No," Jin said, answering for her. "It took a long time to put the pieces together. Kira was still in her coma when I finally tracked Elena down."

Raider's eyes held a glassy sheen as he dropped his gaze to his feet.

"I knew it was too dangerous for Elena to be in our vicinity, especially with Kira out of action. I placed her with a guardian I trusted," Jin said.

"Did you never think I had the right to know?" Raider asked through gritted teeth, clinging to control by only the slimmest of margins.

"I couldn't do that without risking Elena's safety."

Raider made a harsh sound rife with disbelief.

"Think about who you were then," Jin snapped. "You were damn near crazed. You both were. You'd just lost your surrogate family. Kira threw herself into the war. She damn near killed herself a dozen times. What did you do?"

Raider started to turn away.

Jin didn't let him, invading his space and hovering menacingly over Raider. "Because I remember the words you said after it all went down. How you wished it was Kira who died. I remember the messages I sent that you ignored."

"So that justifies keeping this from me?" Raider roared.

"Of course not," Jin snarled. "But it helps explain it. The war had just ended. You and any other Cur who survived were being shielded by the military, your whereabouts considered classified so our enemies didn't try to kill you. You were all targets."

Raider's eyes flared. "Do you really expect me to believe the great Jin couldn't have hacked that information?"

Jin scoffed. "Of course I could have, but not without arousing suspicions and possibly revealing Elena's existence."

Interest crossed Graydon's face. "Why would they have cared?"

Elena perked up, the tilt of her head coy. "Because I'm the first of my kind. Tuann, human—and other."

Kira tensed as silence descended.

Graydon and Harlow were still, motionless, as if they barely dared to breathe.

Kira watched them for signs of aggression.

Several long seconds passed as they considered each other.

Kira waited.

"That explains some things," Graydon said thoughtfully.

"Maybe to you," Raider spat. He glared at Kira. "Explain."

Elena opened her mouth, only for Kira to cover it before she could speak.

"I think you've done quite enough for now," Kira told her niece.

Elena glared unhappily over Kira's hand. Kira waited for a sign of grudging agreement before letting Elena go.

"It's simple, Raider," Kira bit out, emotion making her unwise. "Elise was in the same camp as me. A camp ultimately controlled by the Tsavitee. Genetic manipulation was one of their favorite experiments. Understand now, or do you need me to continue?"

The mood in the air went electric, the tension threatening to turn explosive.

Raider bared his teeth at Kira, looking an inch from going for her throat. In retrospect, sarcasm probably wasn't the best tactic to take.

He pointed at her and shook his head, aggression pouring off him. Even then, he didn't trust himself to speak, slamming off the bridge without another word.

Kira scrubbed one hand over her face, regret at her hasty words giving rise to the sick feeling in her stomach. "That could have gone better."

Jin snorted. "Really? I thought it went great. He didn't try to kill either of us. I count that as a win."

This was true. Raider wasn’t a turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy. He was notorious for seeking retribution for any and all insults.

And Kira had wronged him way worse than any before.

The situation could have easily ended with blood shed. It hadn't. His restraint had been admirable—and unexpected.

He’d retired from the battlefield with barely a shot fired.

Kira didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

A hurt, lost sound distracted Kira from her thoughts. Her niece's lips quivered, cutting Kira to the quick.

She closed her eyes, wishing for a split second she could kick her own ass. Great job, genius. Look what you've done.

Kira knelt by Elena's side, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. You should know his reaction has nothing to do with you. It's entirely my fault."

Elena's nod was small, reminding Kira that her niece was still very much a child. Elena might act with a bravado and cockiness only present in the very young, but she had the same need to be loved as all children. The desire to be part of a family.

Kira's hand closed into a fist and knocked Elena softly on the head. "Cheer up, buttercup. He'll come around in the end."

Even if Kira had to spend a little time beating sense into that thick head of his.

Friday Snippet

 Small snippet as I continue edits. Turns out several chapters of new material have to be inserted into the mid section and the ending needs a complete overhaul. I'm estimating about 30,000 new words must be written before I close out this draft. So fun times ahead.  

In the meantime, enjoy.

Snippet

Kira paused on the threshold of the drop ship, noting the empty seats and the scant handful of bodies currently occupying the ship.

Good. 

Just the way she liked it.

Kira started down the aisle when a piping voice reached her.

“Where is my seon’yer then?” a little girl asked from behind her.

Jin choked in surprise, Kira not faring much better.

Only years of training kept her from whirling and giving away the shot of adrenaline that question had caused her.

Because she recognized that voice.

“Ziva, I’m not sure Kira would appreciate you calling her that,” Joule chided gently.

Ziva harrumphed. “What would you know? My seon’yer is not like all these others.”

This time it was Kira’s turn to choke. 

“Is that so? Tell us what your seon’yer is like, little sister,” Rheya teased.

Ziva rose to the challenge. “She’s wise and fierce. No one is as devious or good at fighting as she is.”

Jin shook in silent laughter against Kira’s neck. 

She slapped one hand over his body, hoping no one had noticed the movement in her hoody.

“That description is rather accurate,” Devon observed.

Kira stiffened. “I’m not devious.”

“That’s the part you take umbrage with?”

“I’m not,” she muttered.

“Uh huh.”

Finn had turned into a statue at her side, staring rigidly into empty space.

Kira grabbed his arm, shuffling him forward. Now more than ever, they couldn’t afford to draw attention.

Kira picked a seat at random, one thankfully in the far corner of the craft, as far from the door as possible. She shoved Finn into the seat, taking one right beside him.

Only once seated did she force herself to relax, stretching her feet out as she pulled her hood forward, fiddling with it until she felt it was secure enough.

Finished, she chanced a furtive glance toward those who’d taken the uhva na at the same time as she had.

With the exception of Ziva, they were all apprentices in service to their own seon’yer’s. 

Devon was the tallest of the four, his height approaching Graydon’s. Dressed in a matte black armor, he was a smaller, less muscular version of the Emperor’s Face. 

Though much younger than Graydon, Kira had a feeling it was only a matter of time before Devon bulked up, rivaling the other man in terms of size.

Yellow eyes that always reminded Kira of daisies observed the youths around him with an amusement that had been lacking the last time she’d met him.

Kira remembered another set of eyes that looked exactly like those, the former owner of which was currently hiding in her hair, completely oblivious to the resemblance.

Beside Devon, Rheya had one hand propped on her hip as she teased the small girl in front of her. 

The youngest of the four, Ziva could be mistaken for an eight year old child—though her true age was likely around thirty years. 

Because of her white blond hair and deep blue eyes, people tended to underestimate her, never realizing the fierce heart that lay within.

Though young, Kira had a feeling Ziva would be a force to be reckoned with in a few years. She had a stubbornness few could match. 

She was a scrapper, disregarding her limits, more than willing to come out swinging no matter the opponent.

Kira couldn’t help but admire someone who possessed those sort of qualities. They were the ones who truly held the power to change this universe because they didn’t pay attention to what was but rather devoted their attention to what should be.

The last person in the party was also the one who’d spent the most time at Kira’s side.

Joule’s face had thinned out since she’d last saw him, losing some of the softness it had had when they’d first met. It looked like his training was beginning to have an effect, packing his small frame with muscles.

There was a world weary look in his eyes that was new. Something that said he’d seen the dark side of life and knew it wasn’t always going to turn out the way he wanted.

Kira couldn’t help feeling like she shared some of the blame for that look. People around her had a tendency of losing their innocence far sooner than they had a right to.

His parents loss may have started the process, but she’d finished the job. 

Despite that, he still had an earnestness to him. A goodness that Kira hoped he preserved a little while longer. There weren’t enough people like him in the universe.

“Your luck continues to trend toward the shittier side,” Jin observed.

Of all the ships on the docks, they had to choose this one to board.

Kira supposed it could be worse. Graydon could be with them.

Snippet for Rules of Redemption

"That's a mighty fine cape he had. Very spiffy," she said, changing the subject. She gave Graydon a once over, taking in the defined muscles even his armor couldn't fully hide. "Why don't you have one like that?"

Graydon's lip curled. "His cape is ridiculous. An opponent can grab it and strangle him with it. No other weapons necessary."

Kira tried to choke back the laugh trying to escape. She was fighting a losing battle, his incredulous expression at her comment too funny to resist.

Graydon watched her with a frown, his jaw ticking.

Kira managed to compose herself, saying with a semi-straight face, "But you would look so dashing."

"All the girls would worship at your feet," Jin assured him.

Graydon's face turned slightly disgusted as he shook his head. He strode off, saying over his shoulder, "Come. They won't be patient long."


Available now for preorder.

A Tiny Snippet

Here is a very small, unedited snippet from Dragon 4. As always, no guarantee this will make it to the final copy.

“Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere,” the shiny one said, pointing at Ilith. “And for Saviors sake make sure she doesn’t add any more of my treasury to her horde.”

Ilith lifted her head at that. More treasure? Where?

“No,” Ryu told her in a firm voice.

She blew a cloud of smoke at him before putting her head back down. She didn’t have plans to go anywhere anyway. She was entirely too comfortable at the moment.

Aileen 4 Preorder and Cover

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! I know many people will be braving the crowds for Black Friday sales, but for those of you like me who are hibernating in a calm, quiet place, here is a little treat. 

Aileen 4 has a name, cover and blurb..... Oh, and it's is up for preorder!!!

A favor owed, a hunt like no other. 

A courier for the shadow world no more, Aileen’s former protection is gone. Alone but still defiant, she survives one night at a time. Sure, working a dead-end job isn’t part of every young vampire’s dreams, but it pays the bills. 

When the darkly seductive Liam calls in a favor, she’ll find her carefully constructed world tilting on its axis as he draws her into a dangerous game against a wily enemy. The High Fey—creatures as powerful and beautiful as they are deadly—have come to town, their motivations unclear as lines are drawn and shadowy alliances made. 

And with them, they bring their Wild Hunt where everyone is either predator or prey. Betrayed and marked as its quarry, Aileen will find surviving until dawn has never been this hard. 

The only thing that might save her—are the vampires she doesn’t trust.

Click for a sneak peak!

Preorder your copy on Amazon

Super Short Snippet of Aileen 4

I'm on my final read through of the book. I'd planned to have a cover and preorder for you guys, but I'm still waiting on one piece. I'm hoping to have everything in order by the end of this week. Here is a bribe in the meantime. 

Snippet

“What was that?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t want to risk blood staining this dress,” I told him.

“Why am I not surprised?” he asked, not giving me time to look around the room as he hurried me to the dais where Thomas sat on an ornate chair, like a king surveying his subjects.

It was a surprising sight. Thomas expected a certain respect from those under his command, but he hadn’t struck me as the type to go this feudal. He watched us with an interested gaze, noting the tension in both our faces.

“Usually one tries not to bring themselves to the attention of the biggest predator in the room,” Liam said.

“You’re welcome,” I told him.

“For what?”

“For interfering before you could do something you’d regret.”

“I had myself perfectly under control.”

I gave him a sideways look. “Uh huh.”

A small growl slipped from him as he propelled me up onto the dais, positioning me at Thomas’s side, just behind his chair before taking his place next to me on Thomas’s other side.

“Problem?” Thomas asked.

“No,” came Liam’s abrupt response.

Thomas looked at me.

I shrugged. “He’s sensitive.”

Small Snippet for your Tuesday

“These people are so strange,” Caden told Fallon. He looked at the creatures above with dislike.

“Did you really expect anything else from Shea’s people?” Fallon asked.

Caden grimaced. “I guess not.”

“At least we know they’re not lacking in courage,” Fallon said, before setting off after xxx.

“They could do with a little less bravery and a little more sense, if you ask me,” Caden responded to Fallon’s back.

Fallon couldn’t argue with that.

Short Snippet

It's been a bit of a rough five days over on my side of things, which is the reason I haven't been very active over the last week or so. To start, I'm trying to prepare the final copy of Destruction's Ascent so that when it goes live you guys get the best book I can produce. The copy edits for it just came in over the weekend. Unfortunately, my grand plans to get a head start on them were derailed after an unfortunate incident with a pair of contacts that left me unable to keep my left eye open for any length of time. Thankfully, the problem has since resolved itself, and I can go full steam ahead, but the delay cost me valuable time I didn't really have.

You see, I realized yesterday that I'm about two weeks behind schedule on Broken Lands 3. There were a few scenes I had to rewrite early on, that, while I'm happy with the end product still cost me progress in the story. I'll get caught up eventually as my writing always goes faster on the back half of a book, but until then I'll probably be less visible on social media and the blog.

In the meantime, here is a short snippet of Destruction's Ascent Chapter One  as a bribe.

Chapter One

Tate itched, her fingers tingling with a mad desire. It was a struggle to ignore the irritant that had been plaguing her for the last hour, one she'd resisted valiantly. She knew she was doomed to fall to its temptation eventually. It wasn't a little itch. One that she could ignore. No. This itch had started as a small annoyance, easily brushed off, before it had grown, multiplying until her scalp practically twitched with the need for relief—the irritant consuming her thoughts.

She blamed the wig. Ever since she had put it on, it had been driving her crazy. The disguise was heavy and cumbersome—a maid's outfit she’d been forced into because her friends thought she was too recognizable in the underground.

Don't think she hadn't noticed how the other two had escaped the same fate, despite having faces even more recognizable than hers. She had a sneaking suspicion her maid's uniform was more about providing her friends with a good laugh than keeping her identity hidden.

Meanwhile, she was stuck trying to think about anything but the fact that she wanted to rip this blond monstrosity off and bury her fingers in her hair. She might end up dead afterward, but she was almost convinced it would be worth it.

The blouse wasn't too bad, but the skirt would definitely be a problem if there was any fighting—its weight and length keeping her from an effective fighting form. Not that this little jaunt was supposed to involve fighting, but one never knew. Stranger things had happened.

It was the Night Market. Anything was possible, and she'd learned to be prepared. The preferred destination of smugglers, thieves and murderers, the market did business in an underground cavern large enough to fit the Emperor's palace and a few other government buildings, with room to spare. Its maze of stalls with their brightly colored banners bustled with as much busyness as any market topside—if not more. Illegal goods were a booming business.

The biggest difference between here and topside was the air of furtive desperation and violence. Merchant and customer alike moved with a wary suspicion missing in the markets aboveground—

eyes constantly on the lookout for their next mark, or conversely, those looking to take advantage of them. It was “eat or be eaten”, and there was always a bigger fish in these rough seas.

It wasn't the type of place where you went unarmed, and Tate fought the urge to check for her blade as a big fellow with a face not even a mother could love gave her a sideways glance.

She looked around with a barely concealed grimace, asking herself how she'd let herself be talked into this.

Tate stepped closer to the stall she'd stopped at and pretended to be absorbed in the array of jewelry on display. No doubt most of it had been taken from the home of a wealthy merchant or noble. The shiny baubles failed to hold her attention for long, and she glanced at the stall to her right, focusing on the youth in front of it. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the owner's face flushed, and he shook his head at a boy no more than sixteen or seventeen, with a face as fresh as dew on a crisp spring morning.

Dewdrop's jaw tightened—the only sign that negotiations weren't preceding according to plan. Tate moved to the end of her stall. His contact—a man Dewdrop swore he'd had many dealings with in the past—wasn't supposed to be the type prone to violence, but this was the Night Market. It wouldn't be much of a stronghold for thieves if it wasn't as unpredictable as it was dangerous.

Tension threaded through Tate. It was harder to let him take point than she thought it would be. She waited, even as impatience niggled at her. Not yet. It wasn’t time. Dewdrop hadn't given her the signal they'd agreed upon—the one he was supposed to use if he got the slightest inkling something was off.

She lifted a necklace up to the small globe lights lining the stall's frame before putting it back down. Her attention veered back to the other stall for a moment before she glanced at the shadowed ceiling of the cavern, barely visible through the shadows clinging to it.

"Buy something or move along, dearie," said a frail-looking woman with skin as fragile as tissue paper and hair a snarled gray mess around her head. She shuffled forward, hunched from a spine twisted by time. "Got no time for gawkers."

"I haven't found what I'm looking for yet," Tate told her. Not that she was really looking.

The old woman seemed to know it too. A dry laugh rattled her chest, and she spit a glob of mucous right next to Tate's foot. Her eyes held a sly twinkle. "Wasn't born yesterday, girl. You're no more interested in this junk than I am in a well-endowed man."

Tate opened her mouth to protest again, then closed it as a familiar figure caught her attention. She turned to watch as a tall man—dark hair brushing shoulders she'd recognize anywhere, their muscled, rigid definition impossible to miss—moved through the crowd. She knew if he turned toward her he'd have blue eyes, the type you could get lost in if you weren't careful, and a face rugged and fierce, the outward manifestation of the warrior inside.

He wasn't alone. A man, just as big and dangerous looking, stalked by his side.

"Damn and blast. What's he doing here?" Tate muttered. She glanced back at Dewdrop and then up at the ceiling cavern where Night, their other friend, hid. He wasn't visible, the waist-high bearcat a master of sneaking around undetected. He was their ace in the hole if things went sideways, but he was only supposed to reveal himself if they were in imminent danger.

She turned her attention back to Ryu and his companion. He had no business here that Tate knew of. Granted, he'd had dealings with the Night Lords in the past, but he usually kept such connections under the veil of secrecy. Striding as nice as you please through the middle of the market where anyone could see wasn't secret.

She ducked her head and avoided his eyes when he glanced in her direction. While she wasn't technically doing anything that could be termed illegal—except for the fact that getting caught visiting the market was considered an admission of guilt—she didn't want her presence advertised. Not when he'd told her to drop her obsession with finding a certain brown-eyed murderer who’d indicated more than a passing knowledge of Tate’s origins.

Tate glanced back once she’d deemed it safe, her eyes drawn to movement behind him as the market heaved with disturbance. Black coats marched into view. Anybody in Aurelia would recognize that particular style. They were only worn by the Black Order—a sect that stylized itself as another branch of law, but were little better than extortionists and bullies.

She didn't know if Night was seeing this or if he'd decided to catch a nap, before she looked back at the old woman, telling her, "If I were you, I'd pack up and get out of here."

The woman peered in the direction Tate indicated and let out a long string of curses that would made a sailor blush. "Not another one," she muttered. She raised her voice as Tate turned away. "Get to packing. We’re being raided."

The other vendors scurried into motion, their wares flying off tables and into bags or boxes. Within moments, the market was a seething cauldron of activity.

She stalked toward Dewdrop, not bothering to hide her intent. Any need for subterfuge was gone now that the Order had decided to make their presence known. She didn't want her friends getting caught in whatever was going down. From past experience, she doubted the men wearing the black coats would be merciful. If they apprehended them, they'd treat them to the same hospitality they showed the rest of the riffraff they rounded up—or worse, given the history she had with that group.

"Time to go," she told Dewdrop.

"I'm not done," he argued.

She jerked her head toward where men from the Black Order were kicking over tables and riffling through the contents. "You're done. I don't plan on sticking around until they notice us."

Dewdrop's eyes went over her shoulder. Frustration flitted across his face.

His companion cursed and turned to Dewdrop. "This is your fault. You brought them down on us."

"I did no such thing," Dewdrop spat back. He stepped forward and poked the other man in the chest. "And you know it, Scotty."

Scotty sniffed. "I know nothing of the sort—you upstart, swanning around with your noble lady and her dragon. Too good for us regular folk."

Tate lifted one eyebrow even as a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, amused despite the fact the Order was closing in on their little corner of the market. She'd never been referred to as noble before. Obstinate, yes. Stubborn, definitely. Low-class and a host of other things, but never noble.

Dewdrop exchanged a look with her. Scotty snorted, interpreting that look correctly and said, "Yeah, I've heard about you two. We all have. You're not going to convince anyone here to deal with you now that you've been blacklisted."

Dewdrop watched the other man with a cocky jaunt to his mouth. To someone who didn't know him, they would assume he couldn't care less about the revelation. To Tate, who now considered him the little brother she'd never had, she could see the information dismayed him.

His mouth firmed, and he stepped close and shoved Scotty back a step. "Good to know. I'll make sure the right people learn about that little problem you had two years back."

"Why you little—"

Tate grabbed Dewdrop by the arm and jerked him sideways out of Scotty’s reach. "As amusing as this is, I think it's past time we take our leave."

Dewdrop’s posture turned alert at the sight of the Black Order's men now only four stalls away. A man looked over at them and pointed, shouting, "Halt."

"You've got a point," Dewdrop said.

Tate so often did.

She kicked Scotty's stall over, blocking the way, as she and Dewdrop ducked between it and another stall. They threaded through the market—not an easy task given the writhing mass of chaos it had turned into. The merchants here didn't take kindly to business being interrupted even when the Order shouted that they had the Emperor's authority.

Tate felt a small amount of amusement when one of the merchants unsheathed a sword and advanced on the interlopers, crying, "You can stuff your Emperor up your duff.  The only authority we recognize down here is that of the Night Court!”

He wasn't the only one to grab a weapon. Now that the Order had lost the element of surprise, more and more of the merchants were turning violent, unwilling to let their stalls be destroyed. It was clear the Order was outnumbered.

There was a loud clacking, the sound reverberating through the cavern.

"Creators curse it," Dewdrop snarled, sounding aggrieved. "They're calling in the Night Lords."

Tate followed her friend's slim back as he leaped across overturned tables and swerved around wrestling bodies. She echoed his sentiment. They didn't have long before the Night Market turned into a full battle. The personal guards of the individual Lords weren't like the merchants here, whose weapons experience was the sort picked up in back-alley brawls. No, the men and women being summoned made up the inner circles of the Night Lords' courts. Highly trained, incredibly deadly, and not the sort to spare a man just because he had a writ of arrest signed by the Emperor's Lord Marshall. These were the people who committed dark deeds in the dead of night. Assassins, soldiers and the like. Dewdrop had told Tate many had, in fact, been part of the Emperor's armies before realizing they could make a much better living on the other side of the fence.

Even as they dodged around another set of wrestling bodies, Tate could see men and women spilling in from holes above, using ropes or ladders to descend rapidly.

A flash of movement caught her eye as Night leapt over a ledge, sailing through the air to land on a banner, then gracefully sliding down to bound across the cavern floor toward the two of them.

"So glad you could make it," Dewdrop shouted.

The Order's men have blocked off the entrance we used. We'll have to find another way. Night's mental voice was light as he ran next to them. He was having a good time—the threat of imminent danger not fazing him.

"This way," Dewdrop shouted.

Tate and Night followed, trusting he knew where he was going. Of the three of them, he had spent the most time down here, having been part of a court. He'd been a pickpocket when Tate met him. Since then, he'd parted ways with his former court—some of that may have been due to Tate's interference. She liked to think he was happier now, even if his life was a lot more dangerous.

Dewdrop swerved to the left, running down a narrow space between the back of the stalls and leaping over spilled wares. Tate followed, Night bringing up the rear. They were on the edge of the market—opposite of where they had come in. The stalls were tightly packed together here, slowing their momentum.

"Here," Dewdrop hissed, lifting a tablecloth up and gesturing under it.

Tate eyed it with dismay. He really wanted them to crawl under there?

He made a face at her. "Hurry!"

Fine. She slid under the table, making room as Night crowded in behind her, followed quickly by Dewdrop. He crawled past them, making sure to stay under the row of tables, which had conveniently been placed in a long line. Night made a chirping sound of appreciation and padded after him. Tate was left with no choice but to crawl in their wake.

The table's skirt caved in as the people outside crashed into it. Tate slid over, barely managing to avoid getting a foot to the face. She grumbled to herself as she moved faster. Just in time for the table behind her to crash to the ground under the weight of two men.

Dewdrop came to the end of the line and paused, lifting the table's skirt to peer from under it. He turned back to them. "Coast is clear."

He didn't wait for a response, ducking out. Night followed without hesitation. Tate crawled out from under the table into a scene fit for a madhouse. ‘Coast is clear’ her ass. There were at least a dozen battling bodies around them. She flung herself forward as a pair fell into the space she was occupying.

She scrambled after Dewdrop and Night as they darted across the space toward a small ledge above them. Dewdrop levered himself up, pausing to wait as Night cleared the ledge in a single bound. Dewdrop held his hand out to Tate, pulling her up after him.

"Now what?" she asked. They were above the fray, but that wouldn't stop some enterprising man from the Order looking to make a name for himself from crawling up after them. Nor would it stop any of the Night Lords’ men from shoving them off if they were noticed.

"This leads to one of the upper levels. There's a path that will take us to the surface from there."

"Isn't that Night Lord territory?" Tate asked. The cavern was constructed in tiers with several platforms and wide ledges overlooking the market. They were the domain of the individual Night Lords, none of whom welcomed trespassers.

"I don't have a better idea, do you?" Dewdrop asked.

Not really.

"At least their attention is focused on the market," Tate said.

Night yowled next to them, calling their attention. We have company.

Tate turned to look, then cursed as several men wearing black coats leveraged themselves up.

"Upper levels it is," Tate said.

Dewdrop grinned and took the lead, sure-footed and light on his feet on the narrow ledge. Night was just as at home on the uncertain path. Tate struggled more than usual, the skirts she'd been forced to wear making her balance a little more precarious. When she almost tripped off the side for the second time, she let out a stinging curse, grabbing her skirt in one hand and her blade in the other. There was a ripping sound as she stabbed the blade into the material and yanked, cutting a long slit in the skirt's front.

There. That should do. Maybe now she wouldn't break her neck during this getaway. She darted after Night and Dewdrop. Catching up was simple when her stride wasn't constricted.

They raced up one narrow track after another, climbing when necessary, and leaping over wide spaces where the ledge had crumbled. The men from the Black Order quickly fell behind, not as at home on these type of pathways as the three of them.

They came to a wide platform overlooking the market. An archway marked an entrance to the tunnels and relative safety—from the market and its interlopers at least.

"We're nearly there," Dewdrop called over his shoulder.

A man stepped out from the shadows. Tall and lithe, with the grace of movement suited to an assassin, Blade considered them with eyes of pure black, marred only by the faintest trace of blue around his iris. He tilted his head and looked them over. His hair, so black that it appeared a deep blue in the right light, was cut so close to his skull that it looked like a shadow.

Though only half Kairi, Blade, possessed their same lethal grace—the kind that said killing you would be easier done than said. Tate had seen him fight and had no wish to be on the opposite side of any battle from him. However, it looked like she might not have a choice at the moment.

Night crouched, and Tate's hand dropped to the knife she'd hidden in her belt. Blade's loyalty was always difficult to judge. He'd wavered between enemy and impartial party in the past, even appearing almost friendly at times. In the end, he was the right-hand man of the Luciuses, two Night Lords who shared the same name and identity to fool their enemies. He was theirs to command. If they'd marked Tate and Dewdrop for death, he would carry out his orders, no matter their history.

His lips twitched with amusement at their wariness. He jerked his head at the archway. "Best get going before they reach us."

Tate glanced behind them and cursed when she saw the men from the Order not far from the platform. Dewdrop stared at Blade, open disbelief on his face. Tate hesitated as well, searching for the trap.

Blade arched one eyebrow, the expression perfectly at home on a face as handsome as any noble’s. "Go, before I change my mind."

Tate didn't need to be told again. She tugged on Dewdrop's arm, forcing him to follow as they made their way swiftly but cautiously across the wide-open space; an area she suspected belonged to the Lucius’s court, hence the reason for Blade's presence. She was careful to keep an eye on Blade and the other threat as it quickly advanced from below. He might have said they were free to go, but this was the Night Market. Words were never to be trusted and betrayal was to be expected.

Blade turned his head to keep them in view as they made it to the archway. His black eyes seared Tate's with a hidden message, as if to say, 'you owe me, now'. Men spilled onto the platform drawing his attention. Blades appeared in his hands, the movement so quick that it was if they were called by magic. He gave the trespassers a fierce grin, his face ablaze with anticipation before he leapt to meet them.

Tate hesitated, not liking the thought of abandoning him to the Order's mercy, given he'd just spared them, but not really seeing a choice. Dewdrop grabbed her and tugged her through the archway, obscuring her view of the outcome. She stumbled, before gaining her balance and running at his side.

"He'll be fine," Dewdrop assured her, sounding slightly out of breath. "He's the best fighter Lucius has. A few Order men won't even give him pause."

A few? There were at least five men out there. For Dewdrop not to be worried, it spoke to exactly how fierce a foe Blade was.

They made a right turn, quickly followed by a left. By the third turn, Tate was well and truly lost, her sense of direction unreliable this far underground. Luckily, Dewdrop seemed to know where they were going, navigating the tunnels with ease. Neither of them carried torchlights, but that wasn't a problem given the soft glow the walls gave off, illuminating their way with ease.

The entire labyrinth of twisting passages was man-made, the surface too smooth and edges too defined to be anything but.

Their pace slowed as they put several tunnels between them and the market. Chances were the Order wouldn't follow them into the tunnels. One—because they were liable to get very lost down here without a guide. And two—because it was too dangerous. There were things that waited in this labyrinth; things not seen since the Creators left this world, leaving their monsters behind—those judged too deadly to try to integrate with society.

"How often does the Order raid the Night Market?" Tate asked. She'd been under the impression that the market was largely left to its own devices as long as it didn't try to conduct business topside. There was an unspoken agreement between the Night Lords and the empire that held, if they kept to their little fiefdoms, the empire wouldn't exert too much pressure. Stray to the world above, however, and they were fair game.

"Never. Not once in all the time I was part of the Court of Two Dawns," Dewdrop said, glancing behind with a frustrated expression.

"A merchant made it sound like this had become a regular occurrence," Tate said.

The Order has decided to make a name for themselves. They plan to start with the tunnels, Night said telepathically, stalking along at their sides, his barbed tail flicking lazily. An apex predator engineered by the same Creators who had likely built this place, he was sleek and deadly, his body a cross between a large feline and a bear. You would never see him coming, right up until his fangs were ripping out your throat.

He angled his head up at them, his long ears and their tufts of fur making him seem more adorable than deadly. More than one child had tried to tug on those ears, an act that he tolerated a lot better than Tate ever would. Amber eyes peered up at her over a flat nose.

Dewdrop snorted. "Like that'll ever happen. They could throw every man they had at this place and never make a difference."

"When did you hear that?" Tate asked after a moment, her forehead wrinkled in a frown.

Night's whiskers twitched in feline amusement. Bear might have been in his genetic makeup somewhere, but he definitely favored his feline ancestors. Around.

Her eyes widened. "You've been spying on them again, haven't you?"

Night didn't answer, just padded along silently.

"You know if you're caught, they'll use it as an excuse to deny your application," she told him. He'd made moves to get his species recognized as sentient. It would afford him all the rights and protections of a human, making it illegal to treat him like an animal.

Keeping an eye on my enemies is worth the risk. Night's tail switched back and forth, the only sign of his agitation.

"Unbelievable," Tate muttered.

He was risking everything. The Black Order already had it in for him, simply because he was made by the Creators. Such protections against being hunted or put down like a rabid animal should have been his by right. Not the case in Aurelia. Evidently some of the creatures left by the Creators were mad, unthinking monsters, consumed by bloodlust or driven to fulfill their original purpose. As such, the government had deemed it wise to create certain safeguards that would prevent such creatures from being elevated to the same status as the three main races—human, Kairi, and Silva. Groups like the Order had been the driving force behind those laws, and they would be only too glad to discredit him in any way they could.

Before she could make him see reason in that stubborn brain of his, a shadow sprang from an adjacent tunnel—completely hidden until now. That shadow grabbed Tate by the arm before she could do much more than squawk, slamming her into the wall and holding her there with a forearm pressed to her throat, her wig tilting precariously.

She didn't bother to struggle, already knowing the person who accosted her. She glared up at Ryu even as the presence inside her sent an excited shiver racing down her back. Ilith, the other being she shared her body with, acted like a cat in heat when Ryu and his dragon were near. It was an inconvenience—especially considering Tate wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the other man. Ilith's feelings muddied the water, making Tate's life even more difficult.

Dragon man, Ilith whispered in the back of her mind.

Yes, yes. He's the dragon man. Tate's thoughts were acerbic. She didn't dare try voicing them this close to Ryu. She'd learned earlier in the summer that most Dragon-Ridden—someone capable of forming a bond with a dragon and able to move between the two forms—did not communicate with their dragon beyond the stray emotion. To do so was a sign of dragon madness. Those afflicted were often put to death for their own good and the safety of others.

It was best to keep that part of her a secret. Ryu knew, but others might be lurking about. Tate had no doubt that a thief’s stronghold would have many hidey holes capable of concealing listeners.

Want, Ilith thought at Tate.

Well, you can't have him, she snapped back. By necessity, she'd been forced to learn how to communicate with her dragon telepathically. It was a work in progress. Not everything got through all the time.

This was not those times. Ilith grumbled and settled, her presence drawing back to a small corner of Tate's mind.

Ryu watched Tate with an intent gaze, suspicion in his as he waited for her to focus on him again. A wary look was in his eyes, one she'd started to notice he got anytime he suspected Tate was talking to the dragon.

"Ryu, what a surprise," she said with a cheeky grin as her wig gave up the battle and tumbled off her head.

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