Today's offering is the second book in my series. A historical paranormal tentatively named The Children of Drakkan. This book is set in ancient Pompeii. Why? Where else would a fire breathing dragon be at home lol!
This book revolves around Rogan Nauld, childhood friend of the king of their shape shifting race and leader of an elite cadre of fighters.
I hope you enjoy my current WIP.
With his orders given he cut through the woods, angling black toward Draghar Keep, his steps brisk. Halfway up a small knoll his arm tingled, sending a chill down his spine, stopping him mid stride. The tingle rapidly became a biting sting as a flush of heat raced through his veins. A fine sheen of perspiration covered his forehead as the heat burned hotter. His upper arm began to throb, sending pain down his arm.
With a feeling of dread, he shoved his loose linen shirt up, exposing the tattoo of two dragons separated by a curved line. All of Drakkan’s children were bestowed with the brand—even his god Drakkan—by their allies, the Tuatha Dé Danann. The mark was a counter measure for the curse their enemy, Cerne the Black of the Famorian’s, placed on all females who bore even a drop of fey blood. Cerne scattered the females in time with no memory of who they were or that they were the only women the dragons could successfully mate with.
And the only way to reach your destined mate was through the al-matar, or mating fever in human language. The heat he experienced earlier flashed through his mind and he shivered with sudden chills. It could not be. Not he, not when he was needed the most.
His limbs quaked with sudden weakness as his fever raged higher, his gaze riveted on the brand as the line between the dragons started to move, encircling the dragons. His vision wavered as blood rushed through his ears. Desperate he attempted to calm his pounding heart, a stillness filled the air around him, pulling his gaze to the surrounding woods. Before his astonished eyes the forest began circling around him, the colors swirling into a vortex of ever increasing movement.
Frantic he reached out to Crispin with his mind. “Something is happening I do not understand. Crispin…Crispin!”
For a brief second in time, he felt the connection, his friend’s alarm before it was viciously severed, the power streaking back to him with such force his nose bled from the recoil. His world spun with even greater velocity, coiling tight around him like a great snake seizing him in a vice of vicious strength. His world dimmed, his body falling into oblivion and he knew no more.
I hope you enjoyed this small sample and enjoy all the wonderful stories just waiting a click away for you.