Grace Goodwin's Blog - Posts Tagged "psychic"

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DESCRIPTION:

Dangerous. Tortured. Desperate. King Ryker of the Draquonir will make one last sacrifice to save his people and his kingdom before he loses control of the raging beast inside him. Dragon kind are dwindling, no longer able to hunt for their true mates in this contemporary, high-tech world.

Ryker must do something no dragon has ever done before; have a child with a human woman he has no desire to touch, a woman his dragon refuses to take as a mate. Arrangements have been made. A queen chosen. A loveless, chaste marriage of convenience. No passion. No dragonfire. Nothing but contracts and medical procedures to sire an heir. This is the only way his race will survive.

Katy Toure is tired of cleaning up her identical twin’s messes, but when her sister calls in a panic, unable to get to an important business meeting worth millions of dollars, Katy just can’t say no. All Katy has to do is walk out of her dead-end job, grab her sister’s passport, fly to Italy, pretend to be her sister for a few days, sign some contracts and take the vacation she’s always dreamed about.

No one will know she’s an imposter. No one ever knows.

But Katy has never tried to fool a dragon who scents his mate...

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CHAPTER ONE:

Mate. Chains. Kill.

Pain.

Ryker of the Draquonir roared. Thrashed. Fought against the heavy weight of enchanted chains holding his massive and deadly dragon form under lock and key. He’d chosen this prison, done what he needed to do to protect his people. The restraints were the only thing keeping him from smashing his way through the cavernous, dungeon-like holding area below his family’s ancient estate.

A large mahogany desk, the only furniture inside the dark dungeon room, caught fire and turned to ash with a blast of his fiery breath. His scales flashed like black diamonds in the firelight. In his rage he cared nothing about destroying one of his favorite treasures. His only thoughts? Primitive. The human within buried deep inside the dragon’s agony. Its need.

For her. His mate. A female he had been unable to find despite centuries of searching. Without a mate he would lose himself forever in the dragon’s torment. Become a monster in truth. A savage killer without remorse or mercy.

He would become the horror human myths and legends had named his kind.

“Hang on a few more days, my king. All the arrangements have been made.” A disembodied masculine voice came through a speaker buried somewhere in the rock, somewhere the dragon would not see. Ryker had invested in a high-tech surveillance system. This was not medieval times, even if the dungeons were far older than even that. His family estate was ancient, but the interior was modern, updated to include every amenity. In a world where humans believed dragons and shifters mere myth, every precaution was taken to appear human.
The dungeon. The chains. The gatherings of his people were kept underground. Hidden.

Ryker swung his massive head toward the familiar sounding voice. Struggling to understand the human words through the haze of unwavering pain, he shifted on his clawed feet, craned his long neck and cursed the chains wrapped around his body, layered over his back and wings. The metal was laced with Elven magic. Not even a dragon could break them, which was why he’d begun wearing them, both as a dragon and as a man, several years ago. Or perhaps a decade had passed. He honestly couldn’t remember. The only way to remove the chains was by shifting back into his human form. As a human, he could make the choice to remove them. That was not an option for Ryker. Without the chains he would lose control, whether in the form of his dragon or a man would make no difference. Not anymore. Years had passed since he’d been in complete control of his dragon and the beast was intelligent. Cunning.

Impatient to hunt for a mate.

Now it was too late.

His dragon hissed at the thought, breathing fire at the voice that dared disturb him.

“Ryker? My brother?” That voice again.

Ryker bellowed, his roar shaking the foundation as he struggled in vain to regain control, to shift, his dragon more and more resistant to the change. He was nearly immortal, yet without a mate his dragon would slip over the edge into madness. There would be no last-minute salvation. His time was at an end. He was in pain.

He was ready. Better to die an honorable death than become a merciless killer.

His giant claws scraped the floor, the sound echoing eerily in the empty room.

“Arrangements have been made. Brother, listen to me. She is coming.”

Brother? What arrangements? Who was coming? He fought to understand the human words. To remember.

“Ryker,” said the voice grimly. “I’m coming in. Don’t eat me.”

Ryker lowered his massive head toward the small, human sized door, his dragon’s eye narrowed suspiciously as the thick, Elven metal panel swung open without a sound. The voice seemed familiar, but was the owner of that deep baritone dragon or man?
Memory fragments of a large crimson dragon flashed through Ryker’s mind.

Dragon.

Ryker drew back one massive forearm, ready to strike. One of his kind dared challenge the king?
Snarling in fury, Ryker let out a fiery, thunderous warning, his mind full of chaos and confusion.

The door snapped shut just in time to keep Ryker’s burst of angry flame from reaching its target, only to open again just as quickly. Before Ryker could inhale again, ready to char the other dragon to cinders, a man stepped through the door.

Ryker reared back. Hesitated. Another memory, this one of childhood, flashed to the fore.

Vector.

Brother.

Grasping for control over his dragon, Ryker held fast to the childhood memory as he stared into the emerald green eyes of the man before him. Human thoughts emerged. Human memories of them speed shifting. Accidentally setting his younger brother’s hair on fire. Ryker had laughed for hours while Vector fumed and plotted revenge.

Slowly the dragon faded, allowing his human side to finally seize control once more. Before shifting he directed one last stream of flame over his brother’s head, this time purposely aiming high. A fraction lower and he would fry Vector’s hair off again. Ryker laughed, the sound a cross between a snarl and a snort.

Vector stayed where he was, his eyes glowing dangerously. “Still not funny,” he growled, his hand combing through short silver curls. “Took a year to grow it back, asshole, and now look at it. Red dragons should have red hair. Red. Not this silver crap.”

Ryker recognized the mournful tone of his younger brother, a brother not so far away from suffering a fate similar to his own. Madness. Fury. Dragon chains holding him bound to the earth until the executioner arrived.

Sobering at the thought, Ryker finally shifted into human form, using dragon magic to dress himself in leather shoes, pressed black pants and white shirt. The massive chains shifted form with him, the elven magic designed to hide them as nothing more than casual gold chains around the neck of an average man. He looked every bit the billionaire business executive he was in the human world. “You continue to risk your life coming in here. While I am grateful, as your king, I am ordering you to stop. I fear next time I will be too far gone to recognize you.”

This time it was Vector who snorted, his suit one Ryker recognized, made by the finest tailors in Rome.

“You may have won your place as king, but you are still my brother. I will hold on as long as you do.”

“That is what I am afraid of. When my human mind goes, the dragon will have no mercy on whoever walks through that door. I do not want to kill you. You earned your place as second in line. Our people will need you to lead them through the war.”

Vector scowled. “No. You will hold on as long as we need you to. A few more days. I will not give you to the executioner’s blade, not yet. All of the arrangements have been made.”

“Ah yes. The arrangements,” mused Ryker, ignoring the tingle at the back of his head. His dragon was already pulling at him, trying to take over again. “Has the woman arrived?” The female who would carry his child. Continue his line. The female who had agreed, for a price his clan was desperate enough to pay.

“No. That’s what I came to tell you. Ms. Toure has delayed her flight again. She should be arriving late tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” So long when every moment was an eternity. “Very well. Once she signs the documents, you will do what must be done. Notify the executioner. Prepare the Draquonir to mourn their king. Crown a new leader. Sing the songs of his ancient royal line and prepare for war."

Vector was second in line, but the other clans would not recognize his right to rule without a display of dominance. Power. Vector would have to fight to preserve their clan’s territory once Ryker was dead. Their territory. Their dragons. The wealth and lands handed down for generations.

“I am sorry brother. I did not wish this for you.”
Vector sighed, his emerald eyes solemn. “The dragon cannot be bargained with. We all know this truth.” He took a deep breath. “Are you sure she’s not your mate?”

Ryker grit his teeth. Emily Toure. Long, curly black hair. Sultry brown eyes. There had been a brief moment when he’d thought she was his mate. Even his keen dragon senses had been fooled. One whiff of paradise and then…nothing.

His dragon, already unstable, went crazy, spinning wildly out of control with pain and heartache after their initial meeting. He’d finally lost control, the momentary joy, taken from him just as quickly, was catapulting him into an early grave.

“I am certain. Did she say why she needed to postpone this time?”

Vector shook his head. “No, but when I told her if she was not here tomorrow, you would void her initial payment, she promised she would be here.” He paused, his eyes straying sadly to what remained of Ryker’s desk. ”I hope your plan works. If it doesn’t…”

Ryker nodded. “I know, brother. I know. It’s too late for me, but if this plan works, you and the others might be able to do the same before it’s too late to save what’s left of us.”

Available Sept. 22, 2022

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Grace will also have a special surprise for all contest entrants on her website. Look for the Goodreads logo on 08/26 and click!

Available for PRE-ORDER! Release Date 9/22/22!
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The beast will stop at nothing to claim her...and his child.

Beast's Secret Baby is coming TOMORROW!!!

Atlan Warlord Velik is hanging on to sanity by a thread. His mating fever rages. His beast fights him every moment. The beast needs to hunt. To kill. To find their mate or surrender to a glorious death in battle. He volunteers for a mission so dangerous, he knows he will not return.

Waiting to deploy, he is lost, keeping distance between himself and those his tormented beast could destroy. His fate is sealed...until his beast picks up her scent. Sees her face. In an instant, the beast knows this human woman belongs to him and no one else.

Until he sees the diamond ring on her finger and hears her discussing her wedding, the event mere weeks away.

He is honorable. He is desperate. He will stop at nothing to seduce her. Claim her. Steal her heart and keep her for himself.

When he disappears without explanation, she has a decision to make; play the fool and hope for a dead Atlan’s return, or marry another and ensure the security and safety of her true love’s unborn child.

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She is everything the beast craves, and the one thing he can’t have.

Beast's Secret Baby is out NOW!!!

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Atlan Warlord Velik is hanging on to sanity by a thread. His mating fever rages. His beast fights him every moment. The beast needs to hunt. To kill. To find their mate or surrender to a glorious death in battle. He volunteers for a mission so dangerous, he knows he will not return.

Atlan Warlord Velik is hanging on to sanity by a thread. His mating fever rages. His beast fights him every moment. The beast needs to hunt. To kill. To find their mate or surrender to a glorious death in battle. He volunteers for a mission so dangerous, he knows he will not return.



Waiting to deploy, he is lost, keeping distance between himself and those his tormented beast could destroy. His fate is sealed…until his beast picks up her scent. Sees her face. In an instant, the beast knows this human woman belongs to him and no one else.



No beast has ever claimed his mate, then left her behind. If he survives the mission, he will beg her forgiveness. He must live. He must return to her, even if he suspects the gods themselves want him dead.

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He will stop at nothing to seduce her. Claim her. Steal her heart and keep her for himself.

Beast's Secret Baby is almost here!

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Kobo: http://ksapublishers.com/s/32q
Google: http://ksapublishers.com/s/32u
UNIVERSAL: http://ksapublishers.com/s/32t

Atlan Warlord Velik is hanging on to sanity by a thread. His mating fever rages. His beast fights him every moment. The beast needs to hunt. To kill. To find their mate or surrender to a glorious death in battle. He volunteers for a mission so dangerous, he knows he will not return.

Waiting to deploy, he is lost, keeping distance between himself and those his tormented beast could destroy. His fate is sealed...until his beast picks up her scent. Sees her face. In an instant, the beast knows this human woman belongs to him and no one else.

Until he sees the diamond ring on her finger and hears her discussing her wedding, the event mere weeks away.

He is honorable. He is desperate. He will stop at nothing to seduce her. Claim her. Steal her heart and keep her for himself.

When he disappears without explanation, she has a decision to make; play the fool and hope for a dead Atlan’s return, or marry another and ensure the security and safety of her true love’s unborn child.

Amazon: coming soon!
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Get ready! Warlord Kai is coming for you...

Bad Boy Beast - Interstellar Brides Program: The Beasts - Book 8
by Grace Goodwin

Chapter One

Atlan Warlord Kai, Miami, Florida

I finally tracked the elusive female, the human who risked her life to break into an illegal fight club and capture images of Warlord Maxus, and the rest of us, during the surprise Hive attack. Whoever she was, the moment she sent those images to potential buyers, she placed herself in more danger than she could comprehend. 

The Hive wanted her dead. 

The Coalition’s Intelligence Core wanted her alive for questioning. 

Me? I just fucking wanted. The moment her lingering scent filled my head that day, my beast had one fucking thing to say… mine. Over, and over, and fucking over again. 

Mine!

I know. Patience. 

No patience. Mine. Go. Now. 

Our mate is in danger. You want to fuck around and be killed by Hive Scouts? 

Weak. I kill them all. My beast sounded insulted I would even mention the possibility of our death. I never lose to Hive scum.

“You lost once.” I wasn’t trying to be an asshole to—myself—but we had been defeated in battle. Once. Captured and taken to a Hive Integration facility and experimented on. Tortured. Integrated with Hive technology that, even after rescue, made it impossible to return to the Atlan home world. I was an outcast now, contaminated, just like every other fighter, warrior and warlord exiled to The Colony. Too dangerous to be allowed to return to Atlan, take a mate and live a civilian life. 

Worse, mating fever raged in my blood. Soon the beast would break free and unleash his agony in an unforgivable killing fury. Unless I convince my female to accept me, take my mating cuffs and never leave my side. 

The odds were not in my favor. 

“I’m going in.” I squinted through the dark, grateful for the pitiful light provided by two lamp posts positioned in the building’s parking lot. Three more surrounded the area but were not functional. It was well past midnight. My female—and she was mine—should be asleep. 

Crouched on the roof of her three-story apartment building, I jumped to the ground and landed outside her bedroom window. “Are you sure these diagrams are correct?” 

“Yes. You still determined to knock on the door?” The voice in my comm belonged to Bahre, our chosen commander while we were here, on Earth. Most of the warlords had been successful in finding their mates. Some had returned to The Colony. I was not among them. The beast within became more difficult to control with each passing day. If I did not claim my mate soon, mating fever would destroy me, and I would be forced to embrace death.

“I do not wish to frighten her.” 

“Fucking mistake. Get her out and explain later.”

“She’s my mate. I do not want her to fear me.” 

“Fuck. Going soft already. Be quick about it.” Bahre’s sigh spoke for both of us. Protecting a mate, physically and mentally, was the only thing that mattered. “Do you have a visual?”

“Negative.” The human apartment building appeared to be quiet. “Activating scanners.” 

“The Hive Scouts we’re tracking are closing in on your position.” 

“How long do I have?” 

Bahre cursed. “Ten minutes, if you’re lucky.” 

Break in, convince a hysterical, human female to accompany me to another planet, put a transport beacon on her, and get her out of here before the Hive showed up? What could possibly go wrong? 

I activated the scanners in my Coalition helmet and watched thermal outlines of the humans inside the building appear on my helmet’s screen. “Fifty-seven humans. Twenty-nine female. Fuck. I hope the Hive don’t get any ideas .”The Hive had been kidnapping and attempting to breed human females. “Only one Scout unit? Just three of them?”

“That’s all we’re tracking. Just get in and get her out of there. We need those images. The I.C. is breathing down my neck on this one.” Bahre’s rumbling didn’t help my agitated state. My beast growled, ready to unleash his rage on the world. 

“You mean Helion’s being an ass. I heard he claimed a mate. Didn’t that calm him down?” 

Bahre’s chuckle sounded like rumbling rocks in my head. “Made him worse, especially when it comes to protecting human females.”

Of course. Now that the notorious asshole commander of the Intelligence Core was mated to a human female, he was obsessed with protecting Earth. Didn’t seem to matter that he’d supposedly retired and relocated his mate to his home world of Prillon Prime. He was even more active—at least when it came to Earth—than ever. 

He had his human mate. Time to claim mine. 

“Larkspur Linton. Age twenty-three. Where are you?” The apartment number on her government issued identification was one-zero-seven.

“Stop stalling, Warlord. I’m going to think you’re afraid of a tiny human female.” 

“Guess you should have come with me. Make sure I don’t fuck it up.” 

Bahre burst into laughter. “Fuck no. The day a Warlord can’t handle three Scouts on his own is the day I walk away from Quinn. She’s waiting for me, so hurry the fuck up before my cock insists I leave you without backup on comms.” 

My turn to chuckle. Quinn was one beautiful female. I couldn’t blame Bahre for his eagerness to be with his mate. 

Speaking of mates.... 

Mine!

Yes. I know. Just a few more minutes. 

No. Now. 

My beast was tired of waiting. Frankly, so was I.

I checked the details on the scanner. Human female. Alone. She must have fallen asleep on her sofa. The apartment appeared to have two bedrooms, but the other rooms were unoccupied. My mate was alone. 

What did she wear to bed? I inspected the thermal image of her sitting on her sofa. The flickering light of her television, or computer screen, flashed across her window. A strange shimmer appeared, then disappeared on my scans. I would need to get that glitch checked out once I was back on The Colony. 

I stared at that curved, red outline and tried to imagine what it would be like to touch her. Other than the grainy image on her driver’s license—brown hair, brown eyes, slightly taller than average for a human, I had no idea what she looked like, sounded like, thought or needed. What if she refused to come with me? 

Mine! 

The beast didn’t give a fuck what she looked like. All females were beautiful and unique. The only thing that mattered was that she was mine. I knew the moment I caught her scent at the fight club that night, a sweet, feminine fragrance that haunted me every minute since. Taunting me. Daring me to find her.

“Eight minutes. Scouts inbound. Hurry the fuck up.” 

Why was I not already inside? Was I nervous to meet her? Afraid she would take one look at the scars and integrations covering my body and find me unworthy? I’ve never feared anything in my life, not on the battlefield, not during my imprisonment with the Hive. Now I dreaded the reaction of a fragile human female? 

Mine!

The beast had a one-track mind. The rock-hard cock rubbing against my armor was proof of that.

Moving quickly, I went to her door and raised my fist. My knock rattled the nearby window. 

Inside me, the beast lunged, eager to break free.

Holding him back took every bit of self-control I possessed.

I braced my hands on either side of the door frame and waited. Knocked again. Nothing. No footsteps. No calling out. My mate’s apartment remained silent. 

Fuck. I didn’t want to have to do it this way. 

I kicked the door open and stepped inside. “Larkspur?” A tall, freestanding coat rack, and the variety of items hanging from the black, metallic hooks, blocked my view of the living area. 

The narrow hall made it impossible for my shoulders to pass. I lifted the metal rack, coats, purses, umbrella and all, and walked forward. “Larkspur Linton? I’m Warlord Kai. I need to speak with you. You’re in danger.” 

“It’s a trap! Get out!” A woman’s shout was cut short by the sound of something hitting flesh. 

“We have an intruder. Eliminate him.” A cold, monotone voice gave the order without a hint of emotion. I knew that tone, the cadence of a group mind, the way the Hive always referred to themselves as ‘we’, never ‘I’. Never the individual. 

“No! Get out! Run!” A woman’s scream made the beast roar a response. 

The Hive were here. For touching my mate, they would die. 

I rushed into the small living space. Three Hive Soldiers, bigger, stronger, better armed and with more advanced integrations than their lowly Scouts—surrounded a human female where she sat, facing them, on her light brown sofa. Her dark hair hung on either side of delicate cheekbones and full, kissable lips.

A dark bruise spread on her left cheek and around her brown eye. A short, blue nightgown bunched up on top of her thighs, exposing long, lean legs. A binding device held her wrists bound in front of her, resting on her lap. Tears streaked her cheeks and still, she did not beg for her own life, but glared, defiance in her raised chin and unblinking glare. She did not cower before the Hive Soldier. Instead, she called out a warning to me.

My mate was brave. Courageous. Honorable. Her sweet, feminine scent filled the small apartment. She was fucking perfect.

The beast agreed. 

“Mine!” He roared as I felt my body shift and expand, my bones and muscles tearing and reforming as I swung the coat rack at the nearest Soldier. The trio—the fucking Hive always traveled in threes—included three integrated Prillonwarriors. Big. Strong. Trained in battle. 

They were no match for a beast defending his mate. 

The metal hooks in the coat rack hit with such force, the hooks punctured the Soldier’s armor, one hook in his chest, the other in the side of his neck. He collapsed to his knees, blood spraying on the pale gray carpet. 

The female scrambled away from the fight, hurling her small body toward the far end of the sofa.

The two remaining Hive Soldiers turned to face my beast, weapons raised. 

Rage unlike anything I’d ever known pumped through every cell at the glimpse of my small, delicate female trapped behind them. I’d fought countless battles against creatures like these, been consumed by the fury of war. This was deeper. Primal.

“Mine!” The word filled the room like booming thunder. My mate screamed. 

The two Hive opened fire, their blasters hitting my armor, charring the flesh beneath. 

Her scream was an explosion inside my skull, my mate in danger, threatened by my mortal enemy. Dozens of battles flashed through my mind, the images so vivid and real the room before me faded until I stood on the battlefield, muscles straining as I tore a Hive Scout’s body in half.

My beast’s cry of rage echoed through the small apartment. The thunderous roar in my ears broke the spell and I came back to myself. That nightmare happened on another day, in another battle. These two were here, now.

They continued to fire, their blasters turning my armor into molten metal on flesh. Searing. Burning.

The pain enraged my beast.

I stepped into the blasts and reached out to wrap my hands around the head and shoulder of the nearest Hive Soldier. He fought as his companion blasted me from the side. A head shot blurred my vision as my helmet took the brunt of the discharge.

The Hive before me was stronger than a Prillon warrior should have been. His Hive integrations gave him unnatural strength. 

With a growl of intense satisfaction, I pulled the Hive’s head from his shoulders and tossed it on the floor next to his fallen, dying companion. I stomped on the polished black coat rack for good measure, driving the metal tips deeper into the enemy’s neck. 

One more. 

Never before had I been grateful for my weeks of capture at the hands of the Hive, until now. Without the integrations in my own body, I might have been in trouble. But I was captured. Tortured. Integrated. Hardened. As one of the few Atlans to survive the Integration process, I was stronger than any Atlan warlord should be. So was my beast. These Hive Soldiers were Prillon warriors once, before the Hive changed them into something else. 

They were following orders, doing a job. I was a warlord, a beast, a killer protecting the only thing in the universe that mattered… my mate.

“Kai, what the fuck is going on?” Bahre’s voice finally broke through. He’d been talking, but my beast was too focused on battle to process his annoying questions.

“Hive.” My beast gave a typical one-word response. 

“The group of Scouts in four minutes out. They’re picking up the pace.” 

“No. Here. Now.” My beast’s tone left no room for argument. 

“I don’t understand. That’s not possible.” Bahre’s confusion was one I shared. How did these fuckers not show up on my scans? I should have known they were here. 

With a flick of my eyes toward the on-screen command in my helmet, I began broadcasting the scene to Bahre and anyone else who was monitoring the situation. 

“Fuck!”

Bahre’s shout in my comms matched my mood perfectly. 

“We are here for the female. Leave. This human is nothing to you.” The remaining Hive Soldier faced me but ceased firing his blaster. 

“Mine.” The beast would not be reasoned with. There would be no bargaining, no mercy.

The final Soldier resumed fire as I advanced. He took one step back. Two. The backs of his legs hit the sofa and my mate gasped, scooting farther away. 

The Hive Soldier turned his head to look at her, the thought clearly forming in his mind. He knew he was dead. Fucking dead. 

He lifted his blaster, pointed the weapon at her head.

Bad Boy Beast is out now!

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Atlan Warlord Kai, Journal Entry 1578, Earth: I've searched for months. My female, my mate, appeared and disappeared like a ghost, a specter who torments me. Her scent haunts me, body and soul. My beast hangs onto control by a thread. Soon I will lose the battle with mating fever and succumb to the savage fury, the agony turning blood to fire in my veins. Soon, not even our mate will be able to save us.

Available everywhere:

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