Crymsyn Hart's Blog

Narissa owns an antique store and has run ins with the occasional spirit. Her life turns upside down when a demonic evil hunts her across dimensions and realities. She discovers magic and vampires are real.
The life she knew vanishes.
Narissa must embrace her ancient bloodline and her newfound magic before the demon’s minions find her and use her to unleash the evil not just in her world, but in all worlds.

Available at Amazon

EXCERPT

The boards creaked on the porch outside. A silhouette passed along the frosted glass of the front door. Narissa grabbed the glass knob to open the door. Her canine dropped his oversized paw on her wrist, swatting her hand away. The person outside knuckled the glass, pounding harder. She moved aside the curtain and glanced through the slim section of clear glass.

The man outside glanced back toward his grimy truck, but she couldn’t see him except the outline of his face and the stubble of his beard, a mixture of honey brown and gray. A long black duster concealed most of what he wore. Shade growled again until his ruff stood even higher. She rested her hand on the top of his head and shushed him. The man turned back and banged on the window again. Shade’s growl sounded like a stuttering motor, vibrating her chest. He barked until her ears split, and she couldn’t quiet him. The man didn’t seem deterred by her menacing dog. Narissa rolled her eyes and suppressed a shiver from the cold in the house.

“I see you inside.” The stranger cupped his hands around his face and peered through the glass.

A piercing chill rolled down the stairs and slammed into her. Shade turned toward the gust and whined sensing another threat from upstairs. Floorboards squealed above in her bedroom as though someone walked around in there. No one else was in the house. What the hell? Narissa had a fleeting thought of going to investigate who was making the sounds above her. The knots in her stomach deterred her from heading up to see.

“If I were you, I’d open the door and let me in. You don’t want them to sink their talons into you, not after all the trouble you’ve gone through to keep them out.”

The bitter wind came again slashing at her back. The footsteps above sounded like a child’s scampering across the warped boards. Shade mounted the bottom step. Silver fur bristled along the sharp ridge of his back. The man pounded on her door again.

“Let me in before they figure out you’re down here. Once they get back to their master, you’re dead,” he warned again.

Who would want her dead? What were the things upstairs? How did they get there? Here and there she caught a glimpse of her grandmother hovering in one room or another. At times the fragrance of her grandfather’s cigars lingered on the front porch. No matter how much her grandmother harped on him to quit, he always had one at night. Whatever the weather, he smoked his stogie looking out at the night, standing guard with the cigar as his weapon. Narissa loved the sweet earthy scent of the tobacco. When she smelled it outside, she knew he watched out for her and the house. Her grandmother’s perfume drifted throughout at times also giving her a sense of protection. None of that warmth permeated the house now. A loud bang shook the house as the bedroom door slammed open and shut. Narissa jumped backward toward the front door. Shade moved back as well.

“Guess you don’t want any help. Good luck being devoured.” The stranger’s boots clomped on her steps as he headed toward his truck.

Narissa let out a breath. It came out in a thick fog. When she inhaled, the same sickly sweet, nauseating odor of burnt honey stuck to her tongue. Above her, the footsteps ceased. A loud bang as something heavy hit the floor made her blood run cold. After that a disquiet settled over the house prickling her skin. A pale white mist like the one in her dream slunk down the stairs. Thin black slashes hovered in the opaque cloud at the top of the staircase. She retreated a step. Her dog growled and backed away until he came to her side. A quiver of fear bloomed in her stomach. No way. I’m not doing this.

“Shade, come on.” Narissa grabbed her coat and purse from the chair and opened the door. She raced out onto the porch after the strange man rather than face whatever was unfolding      inside the walls of her home. “Hey, wait a minute,” she yelled.

He stopped midway between his truck and her porch. Shade hugged her side with his heavy paws landing on her feet. “Decided you needed to trust me more than what’s in your house, right?” His cocky smile ignited her anger, layering it with her growing fear.

She closed her fingers into a fist through Shade’s fur to keep from biting the guy’s head off. Whatever filled her house, it hadn’t started until he showed up. She didn’t know if he initiated it, but the thin shadows in the mist resembled her dream too much to be a coincidence. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on or who you are. Maybe you did something to make this happen? Tell me –”

The front door flew open and hit the porch wall, shattering the frosted window. A thick shroud of fog loomed within the foyer invading the room, bottlenecking at the doorway as it tried to slip over the threshold. Her gaze lingered on the spectacle. A thicker shadow zoomed within the brume. The amorphous darkness pressed against the boundary searching for an escape. It came to the threshold. A hand darted out from the miasma and swiped at her with hooked claws. Symbols carved into the doorframe she never noticed flared with a bright purple light. A shriek shattered her ears. A quick flash and the smell of charred meat permeated the porch. The hand dropped to the floorboards, sheared off, and broke apart into tiny shards of darkness.

The man grabbed her wrist. She recoiled and turned back around. “If you want me to explain what’s happening, then we need to get somewhere safe. I don’t know how long the runes will contain them inside of the house.” He gestured toward the glowing symbols carved into the doorframe. “Your dog rides in the back.”

Other Books in the Forest of Bones Universe

Kaya is the only one of her kind: a hybrid vampire and magician. A demon from days past is trying to free its banished brethren from the dark realms by an ancient sun god. Kaya is the key to freeing them.

Valik, her vampire protector, must help her contain the demon. Stavros, the mortal king, will kill any vampire he comes across because they caused the death of his wife and son. Begrudgingly, he takes Kaya as his fiancé. To stop a war, Stavros must join forces with the very thing he hates and keep the demon at bay.

Old ghosts are stirred up. Magic is growing wild. Mysteries from ages past resurface revealing more questions about Kaya’s heritage and how she’s entwined with the demon. Can she reconcile the past?

Or will the demon claim everything she holds dear, including her soul?

Zieka has always healed those who seek her services. When a wounded soldier drags an unconscious Luca to her doorstep, she finds herself embroiled in a battle between good and evil she never knew existed. Even as she joins the fight, her one wish is to regain her true name stolen by her self-appointed guardian, Chelim, a dark demon with their own hidden agenda.

Between crossing realms with Luca to escape his pursuers, Zieka meets vampires, magicians, and Elder gods who all claim they will help her for something in return—her family book which contains the history of her line and all her healing recipes. Chelim warns her against Luca and swears to protect her.

However, Zieka seeks out an Elder god to unravel the mystery surrounding her book, losing her given name, how her awakened ability to cross worlds all fits together in the battle for the book and her soul.

The truth will rattle her very existence, but she must stay strong to find the true villain who wishes her dead.

Forest of Bones Universe

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTF1EQmu6/

“Give us the murderer, and we’ll leave you in peace,” their leader demanded. His red hair glinted in the sunlight. His grip tightened on the pommel of his sword. The design of a winged beast glared at her from his leather breastplate. The workmanship of the armor and the finely tailored shirt underneath indicated his status as a noble. However, she did not recognize the insignia.

“I’m not about to surrender him to you,” she replied.

The protective symbols in the rocks glowed white as he tried to cross the threshold of her property. A pulse of energy, like a wave of heat, traveled the stonewall until it enclosed her land. He tried once more but met the resistance of the magical barrier and flashed her a hateful glance. Behind him, one of the horses shrieked in pain. Fog coiled around their legs and tried to drag them to the ground.

“Sir, we have to go. It’s not safe. We’ve angered the damos.”

Their leader kept his blue-eyed gaze fixed on Zieka not moved by his man’s statement. “Turn him over. You don’t know what you’re getting involved with if you don’t. Your little scribbles can’t keep me or them out forever.”

“Even if you return, I won’t relinquish him to you.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed. One of the horses screamed. He turned back toward his men and swore. The thickened vapor encircled the search party.

“Sir, please.”

A strand of fog snaked around one of the dogs and pulled the animal into it. The leader grumbled, mounted his horse, and kicked his heels into the sides of his mount. They raced from the clearing to escape the swelling fog leaving Zieka with her charge. She shook her head as they retreated knowing the leader’s threats weren’t empty. The glade hazed over until the miasma surrounded her property, blocking any view of the forest. A dark shadow glided by the entrance, but she ignored it. The entities within never crossed the barriers of her land.

Zieka dragged the injured man into her house and hoisted him onto her bed. His pallor grew as more blood seeped onto her blankets and her hands. She grabbed a knife, cut away the fabric of his shirt, and tossed it away toward the fireplace. A few of his scratches were superficial, but the ones still bleeding had struck some vital organ. Another wound had hit close to the artery under his arm. Her fingers traced over the various scars marring his body. She closed her eyes taking stock of his injuries in her mind’s eye. Zieka could see the places which needed to be tended to first where the breaks in the energy field surrounding his body had weakened. Her hand landed on the wound under his arm. Herbs wouldn’t hasten this kind of healing. She took in a breath, concentrating her energy into her hands. Her mind dropped away. Her power flowed down her spine like molten metal, fusing with her bones, until it consumed her. Zieka directed the healing magic toward his injuries. She bit her tongue as the pain intensified. The space under his arm where the energy gushed out like his blood sealed over. Her power then rushed to the damage on his side near his liver. Her fingers traveled along the plane of his stomach. Another surge of energy charged through her. In her mind’s eye, the man’s aura sealed itself. The healing power cooled in her fingers. She opened her eyes, and her hands roved the rest of his body. He would survive. The other gashes she could make poultices for.

Her head spun as exhaustion overtook her. When she tried to stand up, Zieka collapsed back into her chair as her body cooled. Once she could move without shaking, she gathered a few dried herbs suspended from her ceiling. She threw them into her mortar and ground them with her pestle. Zieka added a little bit of water and plucked one herb which made her healing foolproof. Seven silver vigata petals clung to the stem in the shape of a bell. Dark green leaves, as big as her hand, looked freshly picked. She crushed a leaf and a petal between her fingers and added it to the mixture. It turned the same silvery hue as the flower. She spread the paste on clean cloths and placed them on her patient’s remaining wounds so they wouldn’t fester. She gathered her energy for another scan. His breathing evened out and his body responded to her curing. Zieka pressed her hand to his forehead and pushed her magic into him with the intention for his slumber to deepen. After a ragged inhale, his body relaxed.

Her head throbbed. She settled into her seat, safe to recover her strength from the healing she performed. Her eyelids drooped and she surrendered to a dreamless sleep.

Available on Amazon

Buy Direct at Mocha Memoirs Press

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTF1EQmu6/

About the Book:

Brady Sampson and Myer Joyner met in college, quickly bonding in their business classes and both landing gigs at nearby Global Initiatives in scenic Lost Lake, Tennessee. Combining their signing bonuses to invest in a rental house beside the lake together, the two take to being roommates the way they have every other challenge they’ve faced over the past two years — secretly pining for one another while never speaking a word about it.

That is, until their sexy new coworker, Carly Carmichael, produces an uncommonly sensual stirring in both men. When Brady invites their new neighbor over for a meet and greet, she takes him up on the offer on the one day he’s out. While she and Myer sip wine and get to know each other better, both let it slip that they have a crush on Brady, unleashing a series of events that threaten to topple everything they thought they knew about each other.

Retailer Link: https://books2read.com/RippleEffects

Get it at Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/ripple-effects-the-deep-end-3-b-3640

EXCERPT

“White or red?”

Brady Sampson glanced over at his new roomie, Myer, holding up two wine bottles and wearing an almost face-splitting grin. He struggled to ignore the equally cataclysmic ripples of desire that rang through his body as he kept a placid look on his face.

“Which do you prefer?” Brady answered.

Myer glanced from bottle to bottle as if he’d never seen them before, giving Brady time to openly adore his big, veiny hands as he held each aloft. “I always drank beer before now.”

Brady chuckled, never less than amused by Myer’s vaguely off-kilter outlook on life. “So why don’t we grab some beer then?”

Myer wrinkled his nose, nostrils flaring under a spray of cheery soft freckles to go with his mop of strawberry blond stubble. “I dunno, this seems so grown up right now, you know?”

Brady steered his own shopping cart closer, inching into the liquor aisle to join his new roomie. “Beer is grown up,” he suggested, studying the labels next to the shelf where Myer lingered. “And cheaper, too.”

Myer gave him a “spoilsport” frown but set the bottles back just the same. “Dude, you’re not going to be one of those cheap-ass roomies who puts his food on one shelf and mine on the other and pro-rates the rent if I happen to steal a grape or two, are you?”

Brady chuckled. “No, of course not. I just don’t really feel like paying for stuff I’m not going to drink, you know?”

Myer considered this as if he’d never thought of it before. “Valid point, I suppose.” His big fingers did unspeakable things to Brady’s already lurid imagination as he moved down the aisle, touching several brands of champagne. “Bubbly then?”

Brady nodded, as if equally inspired. “That’ll work,” he agreed, taking one of the two bottles from Myer’s hand.

“Hey!” Myer’s youthful face — oh yeah, he was definitely getting carded, for sure — broke into a surprised grin. “I thought I was in charge of alcoholic beverages this time.”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean you’re paying for it all.”

Myer’s gaze quickly assessed the running total of Brady’s half-full shopping cart. “You’re paying for the steaks already, though.”

“Cuz they come in a two-pack. You want me to tear them in half and get the butcher to rewrap them?”

Myer frowned, looking effortlessly casual in a mustard-colored V-neck and striped blue Madras shorts, the clothing seeming to hang off his lean, rangy frame the same way his shirt and ties did at work every day. “Fair is fair, though.”

“Now who’s the cheap one? Huh, Myer?”

Myer glanced at his own cart, only slightly less full than Brady’s. They were facing each other in the liquor aisle, carts side by side, just two bros out shopping like any other two bros out shopping. And yet, to Brady at least, the seemingly humdrum errand had such an intimate feel to it he had to struggle to keep from sweating.

“I mean,” Myer teased, nudging Brady’s elbow with no idea of what that little tremor from his touch felt like racing through Brady’s body. “Have you seen the price of yogurt lately?”

Brady snorted, romantic reverie suddenly broken. “No, Myer, because I’m not a retired housewife on a diet.”

They chuckled together, drifting onto the next aisle and quibbling over potato chips and pretzels like an old married couple. Brady struggled to keep things light when all he wanted was to reach out and grab Myer’s hand and cling to it like they were an actual couple.

He swallowed the desire, as he had all his life, and played it cool instead. Said the right things. Glanced Myer’s way just long enough, but never too long. Walked just close enough to him as they argued over wheat bread versus rye, and never too close. Laughed just hard enough, smiled just wide enough, sending all the right signals like he always had.

He’d leapt at the chance to room with Myer when they both got transferred to the Tennessee branch of Global Initiatives after their internship at the corporate offices in Latham, Georgia. They’d hit it off as interns, sharing lunch breaks and chatting it up in the campus gym after weekend workouts. Brady thought it would be the perfect way to solidify their friendship, even if he knew they could never be more than that. He thought he could be strong, thought he could fight the temptation, thought it would be easy, like it had been back when they’d just shared a cubicle.

But now? Sharing a sprawling house out on secluded Lost Lake, shopping together, padding barefoot down the same halls in various stages of undress? Suddenly Brady wondered if he was strong enough to weather the ups and downs of living with someone who only wanted to be friends.

When obviously, achingly, frustratingly, Brady wanted to be so much more.

Author Info:

Alex Winters is the pseudonym of a busy restaurant manager whose curious young staff would love nothing more than to follow him around the dining room reading his steamiest, most romantic passages aloud! When not writing romantic holiday stories of various heat levels, he enjoys long walks with his wife, scary movies and smooth jazz. Visit him online to see what stories are brewing up next!

Website: http://www.awintersromance.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100084802422320

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/a_winters_romance/

Fleeing the shame of being rejected in favor of an Omega, Jackson Southerly, alpha wolf, has run away to one of his family’s ski resorts.

Fleeing the shame of being left at the altar, Sioux Brown has traded in her tickets to the Bahamas and run away to the snowy slopes of Colorado, where she plans to lick her wounds in solitude.

The snow in their hearts melts as they share the deserted lobby in the dark of night, but will their growing attraction survive the light of day?

Retailer link: https://books2read.com/RunawayHome

Get it at Changeling Press: https://www.changelingpress.com/runaway-home-escape-5-b-632

EXCERPT

“Mmmm…” Sioux Brown awoke cocooned in a nest of warm blankets. She arched her back, bare skin sliding smoothly on silken sheets, stretching pleasantly flaccid muscles in a languid morning ritual.

“Good morning, doll.”

“Aarrghhhhhh!” The slow, gravel and silk voice acted like a bucket of ice water on her drowsing mind. With a scream shrill enough to shatter glass, she ripped her way out of sheets, blankets and quilts. Heart pounding, pulse skittering out of sync, she leaped free of the bed and promptly tripped on a trailing corner of the top comforter. She landed on her butt, still yelling.

“Holy ambulance sirens, Sioux. You’re going to bring security down on us! Please! Stop while I still have eardrums.” A sleepy white man sat up in the disarray of blankets, hands clapped over his ears.

Sioux gulped, stopping only long enough to gather more breath. She screamed again, but couldn’t decide if it was from fear or excitement. Because really, if the man was going to hurt her, it seemed he’d had all night to do it. Even frightened half out of her chocolate skin, Sioux couldn’t help noticing juicy details.

There was a hunky, hairy, naked white man in her bed. His dense swirls of chest hair almost hid flat brown nipples and he sported a six-pack she could quench her thirst with all day long. His thick mop of tangled black hair fell over a broad brow that narrowed into a striking craggy face. Not handsome per se, yet not butt-ugly, either… interesting. Nice mouth too.

He sat up, knees apart, the edge of the sheet covering his assets from the hips down. It was thin enough she could see the shadow of his muscular legs, as well as the outline — the huge outline of what promised to be a monster cock jutting between his thighs.

Sioux stopped screaming long enough to demand, “Who are you and what are you doing in my bed?”

The man sighed. “See, I was afraid of this. Something told me you didn’t drink often, and couldn’t be held responsible for your decisions.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know nothing about my drinking habits.”

“I know you got plastered on two baby drinks.” He smiled at her, displaying a cute dimple in his left cheek. “‘Course, I might be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the drink that had you acting the way you did last night. Maybe it was me. One can live in hope…”

Author Info:

A funny thing happened on the way to the grave… In 2006, Cammy was diagnosed with Pulmonary Sarcoidosis and given two weeks to live. She promptly discharged herself AMA — Against Medical Advice — since, as she stubbornly informed her doctors, she could die at home far more comfortably than at the hospital. But then… she got an idea for a new story. Then another, and another…

Fifteen years and dozens of fantastic tales later, Cammy passed quietly in her sleep, at home, as was her wish. We miss her. Her work lives on, and we hold her in our hearts. Cammy decided many years ago that upon her passing, she wished to donate her royalties to The Quiet Kitty fund, which helps authors with emergency medical expenses. We do, to keep her in our hearts and minds.

Author Name: Marteeka Karland

Book Title: Morgue

Date Published: June 14, 2024

Genre: Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Synopsis:

Dorothy: Spring Break turned into my worst nightmare. Drugged and held against my will, the brutality I witness seems too horrible to be real. Unable to escape, unable to do anything other than await my fate, I nearly gave up hope. Then he burst through the door like an avenging angel. My very own angel of death.

Morgue: I’m a straight-up killer. It’s what I’ve trained for my entire adult life. I got my road name because I’ve put more men in the morgue than all my brothers combined. So when we rescue a group of women being held by human traffickers, I did what I do best. I killed. But not for all the women we rescued. For her. Dorothy. My very own angel of mercy. Now that I have her, I’ll do anything to keep her. I just hope she can accept what I am and not condemn my soul to hell.

WARNING: Morgue includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations including those that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a protective hero, a determined heroine, and an eventual happy ending. No cheating, as always.

Retailers:

https://books2read.com/MorgueBonesMC

Changeling Press:

https://www.changelingpress.com/morgue-iron-tzars-mc-11-b-3638

EXCERPT

Dorothy

Moans of the other women in the shitty little shack filled the air. I knew the feeling. My head throbbed and every muscle in my body ached. The rooms were paper thin so we all could hear the screams of the others around us. The cruel laughter of men. The frightened whimpers of the women. And girls. I had absolutely no idea where I was or how long I’d been there, but I knew it wasn’t Kansas.

“Levántate, perra. Afuera.”

“I don’t understand.” It wasn’t a new thing. And I’d paid for not knowing Spanish more than once since I’d been taken.

“¡Ahora!” The guy knew I didn’t understand. It felt like he took pleasure in the fact I didn’t understand so he could single me out. I shrank back, trying to make myself smaller in the face of the brutality I knew was about to happen. He lunged forward and backhanded me before grabbing my arm and shoving me out of the tiny room I shared with five other girls.

I hit the floor, my knees slamming onto the hard dirt. Pain shot from my knees up my thighs, and I cried out. When I tried to get up, the guy kicked me in the side. My head spun with all the sudden movements. I thought it was also some kind of lingering effect of the drugs they kept shooting me full of. They did it to everyone who fought. Unless they wanted us to fight. I got dosed often.

“Perra estúpida,” he muttered. I got the “stupid” part, and I could only assume the other was “bitch,” but it could have been anything. The kick knocked the breath out of me and sent pain exploding through my ribs. I groaned but knew better than to make too much of a fuss. Noise drew attention I didn’t want. Attention meant someone was about to hurt me worse than I already was.

“¡Escuchen!” The big brute swept his hand through the air, obviously wanting everyone’s attention. He spoke in a string of rapid-fire Spanish I didn’t understand. I was pretty sure something horrible was about to happen and I sincerely hoped it didn’t have anything to do with me. I’d been here maybe a week. Seemed like longer. I was surprised this guy or the men and women with him hadn’t done more than terrorize me or the other women. Though I was sure the qualifier “yet” needed to be added. There was no way they’d brought us here for tantalizing conversation. Though I’d been smacked around a lot and was covered in bruises, they hadn’t seriously harmed me. Again, there was that fucking qualifier hanging over my head.

I crawled very slowly to the wall where the other women were, trying not to make sudden moves so he didn’t bring his focus back to me. The one thing I knew for sure — in spite of the language barrier — was that I absolutely did not want any of these men to focus on me for too long.

All the women around me were whimpering and trembling, looking as terrified as I felt. A few looked like they might have checked out and I didn’t blame them. If I knew how, I probably would too. Fighting back didn’t seem like the smart thing to do if I wanted to live. While I knew there were fates worse than death, I wasn’t ready to contemplate them just yet. I was sure, at some point, I’d have to face that decision, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

More rapid-fire Spanish followed as one of the other men dragged a young woman down the hall and tossed her to the ground so she skidded several feet before rolling to her knees with a whimper. She’d been beaten, one side of her face swollen. I hadn’t seen her before, but, given the track marks on her arms and how badly she’d been beaten, I was certain she’d attempted to escape. They’d likely dosed her as much as they’d dosed the rest of us when we got out of line. Only, this time, I got the impression this guy was done taking shit.

“Esto es lo que les pasa a las perras que no me obedecen. Si no me obedeces, esto te pasará.”

I didn’t understand. But I didn’t have to. The next thing I knew, he’d drawn out a machete. The girl screamed and tried to scramble back only to be held in place by two more men. A third helped them wrestle her to the ground onto her back. Once they had her down, the third guy held her legs at the ankles. There was a whoosh as the blade cut through the air and came down on her right thigh.

Blood arced when he raised the machete and brought it down again on the same leg. It took three more tries before he hacked her leg off and started on the other one. Everyone screamed, myself included. When anyone turned away, there were men to force them to turn back. And watch.

Before he got her second leg hacked off, the woman was unconscious. There was blood splatter everywhere, but once a limb was completely severed, the bleeding slowed dramatically. Still, the men tied tourniquets above the stumps.

I’m sure I was one of the women screaming. If I was, though, I had no memory of it. All I could process was a young woman getting her legs chopped off.

“Esto es lo que sucede cuando intentas escapar.” He spat on her. “Una puta sin piernas es más fácil de follar. ¿Sí?”

I stared at the unconscious woman. Though he hadn’t killed her outright, I was sure she wouldn’t last long. One of the men grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the room, leaving a trail of blood as he went.

As I watched, one of the men approached me with an evil smirk on his face. “In case you’re wondering,” he said in thickly accented Spanish, “He said this is what happens when you try to escape, Americana.” He grinned. “And a whore without legs is easier to fuck.” He snorted a laugh. “I happen to agree. So, I’m really hoping you try to escape too.”

I barely held back a sob of despair. I knew he was trying to elicit a response from me, likely to give him a reason to hit me. There were some of us who tried to fight back when they came for us, but we were always overpowered. So far, all they’d done was beat me, but most of the others had been brutally raped and I knew that’s what they were building up to. This was a whorehouse of sorts. Only, the women didn’t get paid. The men who “owned” us did. A place where we were all used and trafficked.

The guy backhanded me when I didn’t respond to him. I fell back with a cry, covering my head with my arms and whimpering.

“Don’t worry, bitch. You won’t suffer long. I doubt you make it a month once we start breaking you in.” He gave a bark of laughter before kicking me.

My head swam from both the blow to my face and the remaining drugs in my system. More men crowded us in the tiny corridor only to shove us into various rooms. There were five more women in the room I landed in. Three filthy mattresses lay on the floor and a bucket sat in one corner for us to relieve ourselves. That’s the way it had been since I’d been here.

The next thing was the men coming to shoot us full of whatever drug they were using. I suspected it was heroin. A couple of the girls screamed while the other three complied easily. Probably because they were addicted or figured it was better to endure whatever happened next while blissfully numb than stone-cold sober. I understood. While I couldn’t put up much of a fight this time, I wanted to. Desperately. I hadn’t given up hope of getting out of here alive. Not really. Not yet. But I wasn’t too ashamed to admit I was fucking close.

A man held my arm while another jabbed a needle into my arm at the bend of my elbow and pressed the plunger. The pain of the dull needle sinking into my arm was soon replaced by a sickening euphoria. My eyes glazed over and my body went limp. I was still conscious, but… detached.

That was when one of the men shoved me onto a mattress and pulled at my clothes. He was breathing heavily and talking in Spanish, but I got the gist of what he was saying. He was going to fuck me. I caught the word “Americana” and figured he was taking bragging rights by fucking the American woman. They all looked at my blonde hair and blue eyes, going so far as to pry my eyes open and touch my eyeball, like a child testing if something was real. Maybe they thought I had contacts or something. Many of them felt my hair, fisting it and mimicked wrapping it around their cocks. I imagined far worse was going to happen shortly.

I whimpered but couldn’t even form words to tell the guy to stop. Not that it would have done any good. I batted at him weakly, but he didn’t seem to notice much less even acknowledge I was trying to fight him off.

Once he had me naked from the waist down, the guy crawled on top of me, pressing me into the filthy mattress. He reached between us and freed his cock. I could feel the head of it touching me. I shuddered, gagging as I pushed at him weakly.

“No!” I tried to shout the word at him, but it was a whisper at best. Just as he was about to penetrate me, there was a huge bang and the door splintered, throwing pieces of wood all around the room. I was sure some were embedded in my skin, but I still couldn’t do more than try to roll away from the man on top of me.

He shouted, pushing himself to his feet. Once his weight was off me, I crawled as best I could to the corner of the room and tucked myself into a ball. It was all I was capable of. I couldn’t even cry. Oh, tears poured freely from my eyes, but I didn’t have the strength to sob out my fear and frustration.

I thought there were screams all around me, not only in this room but in others nearby, but it was hard to tell. The more I tried to move, the more the room spun. Somewhere in the background of all that, and the ringing in my ears, I knew a fight raged. Was it more men coming to chop off the legs of someone else? Oh, God!

Then someone grabbed at my arms. I was helpless to stop them. I thought I was even more groggy than I had been when I was about to be raped. Whatever drug they’d given me had started to take hold. It was only the adrenaline coursing through my veins that kept me conscious.

“Hold on, honey. We’re gettin’ you outta here.”

Author Info:

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka’s latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don’t forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka’s beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk

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Elijah Dane’s not the rescuing kind, but his wolf will go to extremes to claim Sadie for his own…

Billionaire Werewolf Ate My Fiancé: The loss of her fiancé carved a hole in Sadie Matthews, body and soul. Billionaire Werewolf Elijah Dane’s not the rescuing kind, but something about Sadie drives his wolf crazy…

Hungry Fur You: Sadie thought she had it all with her sexy werewolf Elijah — until she’s bitten by another wolf who thinks Sadie’s her rival. Luke never expected to find his mate in the middle of the forest. Can Elijah and Luke see eye to eye when it comes to sharing their new mate?

Feast or Famine: Sadie’s not sure what to think when her dead fiancé waltzes back into her life. With all three men pulling on her heartstrings, she needs to figure out how they all fit together because her heart can’t break into three pieces. Now wolves are winding up dead, and everyone is looking to her to find out who’s behind it.

Dangerous Game: Sadie needs to save her friend Narissa, but before she can find the kidnappers’ hidden lab, humans capture Sadie for their evil experiments. Her mates will stop at nothing to get her back. But now something even darker lurks in the shadows…

EXCERPT

Sadie set her bag down at the counter and waited for the clerk to notice her. The lobby screamed the place only catered to the rich and powerful. Why the hell am I here? This is not my style at all. Why did I let Mel talk me into this? A light lavender scent tickled her nose. It took all she had to stop from sneezing. Five containers filled with water and an array of different fruits suspended between the ice cubes were displayed on a table next to the check in desk. Glass tumblers sat by them, glistening under the track lighting. Faint instrumental music played in the background. The environment radiated warmth and a welcoming atmosphere.

However, she felt anything but welcome. Something about the place felt a little off. Sadie just couldn’t put her finger on it.

A few brochures lay on the counter for outside attractions. Laughter floated down a hallway as the clicking of heels got closer. She rubbed her hands together at the chill from the overly cold AC blowing down on her. Her stomach tumbled as she worried her lip about why she had agreed to come to this place. She felt completely out of place. A group of women wandered by. All were dressed in fluffy white robes, smiling and smelling like they bathed in expensive lotion, all with perfect, glossy straight hair that cost more to maintain than what she made in a month.

“Hello. Can I help you?” The receptionist finally addressed her.

The words caught in her throat as she turned back to the man. His white teeth nearly blinded her. “Checking in.”

He gave her the once over with a little smirk. “Name, please.”

“Sadie M-Matthews.” She fought the urge to run back to the car that dropped her off. Melissa would be pissed because she had arranged for her to come to this special resort in the middle of no-fucking-where. The last hour of the ride all she saw around her were trees. No signs along the road signaled a high-end hotel was off in the distance. Just more trees as far the eye could see. It almost felt like she was entering into a horror movie. Melissa said she needed a week to relax, unwind, drink in the fresh air, and go along with being pampered. Sadie hated the idea.

“Oh yes, we have you right here,” the desk manager told her. His eyebrows shot up as he looked at the computer screen and then back at her. “Someone decided to go all out.”

Her cheeks burned as she studied the marble countertop shot through with veins of gold and flecks of black. The deep mahogany wood of the desk gleamed. Maybe some felt welcome here, but the whole place screamed of opulence and rubbed her the wrong way. Probably the handiwork of some billionaire who doesn’t know his head from his asshole. He planned out this whole thing for his buddies to send their wives while they are out screwing their secretaries. Melissa had talked up the place, told her she needed a break, and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Her friend meant well, but there were things Melissa didn’t understand. She was still processing what happened. She wasn’t ready to do some scream therapy shit and then get a mud bath to help her feel better. “Yeah… well…”

The desk clerk stood up and waved her comment away as he held out a red plastic keycard. “Honey, you got the all-access pass to this place. This one gets you into all the secret places that the regular guests don’t get to see.”

She went to take the key from him wondering what on earth he meant about some all-access pass when he grabbed her wrist. What did Melissa get me into? “This isn’t going to open some door that leads me to a sex dungeon, is it?”

The twinkle in his eyes died. His plump lips set in a straight line making her stomach tie into even tighter knots. “With this comes great responsibility. Don’t let it out of your sight. Let me give you a word of warning, since this is your first time with us. You might see or hear certain things here. We request you don’t make a big scene if you happen upon some of the other guests engaging in something you might not think is normal.” He released her hand.

“What do you expect me to find? Someone fucking in the middle of the pool?” Sadie’s mind whirled at the information and it raised a few red flags.

“Nothing like that. Ma’am, you do know where you are, correct?” He looked at her like she had four cats sitting on her head.

“It’s a place where I’m supposed to relax. Am I missing something besides the 24-karat gold inlay in the ceiling?” She was about ready to say the hell with all this. Melissa would have a coronary, but this was getting ridiculous.

The receptionist sniffed her. Sadie wasn’t sure what she had just experienced. It took her by surprise. He actually leaned over the desk and took in another long breath like she smelled bad. His expression turned grim. “Forgive me, I thought… never mind. Let me get the manager out here.” He pressed a button on his earpiece and spoke into it. “Mr. Watson, I need your assistance please.”

“This whole thing is already paid for. What’s the big deal?” She tried to keep her cool. This wasn’t the best start to her relaxing week. So far, she was late on getting there because the limo service picked her up late. Then he had a flat tire. Thankfully he had a spare, but it didn’t seem like this was going to be the getaway vacation her friend wanted her to experience. She glanced down at her attire. Sadie wore blue jeans and one of the nicer blouses she owned. It might not scream rich, but she didn’t look like a slob. Her feet ached. She wanted to sink into a warm bubble bath, drink a glass of wine, and then forget about the rest of the world for a while. If nothing else, shut out the noise in her head and in her heart. “I should be permitted to whatever that little piece of red plastic entitles me to.”

“Miss, I am so sorry. There seems to be some kind of mix-up when the reservation was made. We can certainly accommodate you, but I would need that back.” He reached across the desk for the keycard but snagged her wrist instead.

Sadie yanked her hand away, making him lose his grip on her. His nails dug trails in her flesh as he tried to get the keycard back. She hissed at the sharp pain, but the man’s expression twisted into one of determination. He moved a little quicker and caught her once more. This time his grip locked around her and he tugged as though he would rip her arm out of its socket. The little guy’s not going to get the best of me. I don’t think so. She set her teeth on edge and jerked back as they played tug-o-war over the little red keycard that was supposed to open magical doors for her. “Look, buddy. I’m not giving this thing up.”

“Ma’am, it would be best if you did. Believe me.” He pulled back, bringing her over the counter until the edge of it pushed into her stomach.

The quick stab made her grunt. This whole thing shouldn’t have been such a big deal. Normally, she would have acquiesced and let them upgrade her or whatever they had in mind to rectify the situation. However, this was different. After losing so much, she needed to hold onto whatever she could. Nothing was getting past her, not even this fucktard who kept telling her she couldn’t. He dragged her up again. This time she felt her feet lift off the floor. Sadie grasped the other side of the counter and pulled back.

“I want to speak to your manager,” she said through gritted teeth. A sting of sweat hit her eye from the exertion.

He took both hands and tried to get the key from her. This time Sadie couldn’t hold onto it with her sweaty palms. The desk clerk took one more tug and she lost her grip on the keycard and the counter. The momentum of him releasing her so suddenly sent her flying backward. Her right shoulder, arm, and hip took the brunt of her impact on the tile floor. The plush carpet cradled her head, so it didn’t crack open. The desk clerk had sent her halfway across the hotel lobby and left her seeing stars. Sadie took a few seconds to listen to the thunder in her ears and focus on the highly golden lobby ceiling. When she tried to lift her head, the world spun so she let it rest once more.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes focused and she peered into the most startling honey-gold eyes she had ever seen on a man. A closely cropped reddish brown beard accentuated his strong jaw line. He appeared completely upside down and out of proportion, but she realized her vision was still realigning after having her bell rung. “Here. Let’s get you off the floor.” He offered her his hand.

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There are a few things in my life as an author I’m expected to talk about.

Books. The mechanics of writing. How plots haunt me and how my muses never stop planting seeds for more stories. However, I don’t talk a lot about me. I’ve balanced my writing and daily life with also being psychic.

I’ve read people professionally in the past. Don’t do it anymore unless friends ask. Still I live with it. I see ghosts, hear them, can read my fair amount of tea leaves, see shit in the woods and a few other things. These days, I have a lot of spirit visitations in my dreams.

Several years ago, my husband and I lost our black Lab, Morrigaine.

After she passed, she started coming to visit in dreams which is awesome and heart wrenching at the same time because she’s not there when I wake up. Six years later she comes to visit. The reality of the visitation mixes with the dream realm, but has a different feel. I know I’m awake. We play or snuggle or whatever she wants and then she heads off and I wake up.

Sure, others have had the same experiences with their pets, relatives, people they know, or guides. I’m not the only one out of millions to have this, but it’s still something I don’t talk about much.

Why am I sharing now?

Morrigaine decided to show up last night and I realized why not share the experiences with others than my husband and my friends. Other people need to know who deal with grief or with loosing their pets that they are still watching out for us.

Hello all, we’re on day three of the #OctoberFrights Blog Hop. Can you believe we’re getting ever closer to Halloween? It doesn’t seem like it. Although the cooler weather here in NC is nice.

Today’s blog is the first chapter of my newest book I’ve sent off to my publisher called Mist & Bone.

Mist & Bone is the second book in my Forest of Bones Universe.

The heroine, Zieka, is a healer. She treats anyone who comes her way. One day a bloodied knight comes knocking on her door looking for treatment of his companion. Little does she know, these men are being pursed by a small band of mercenaries and want Zieka to turn over the wounded to them to pay for their supposed crimes.

Now I’ve self-edited it, so you have to forgive any typos.

Mist & Bone – Chapter One

Mist meandered through the trees hugging their large trunks. The sweet honey fragrance of the vigata flowers lingered in the air. She reached overhead and plucked another full bloom. Thick ropy vines wrapped around tree branches and cascaded down around her like a waterfall of flowers. She added it to her basket. Above her a crimson sun lit up the sky. A tune her mother used to sing echoed through the clearing. She stopped gathering the flowers and turned toward the direction of the melody. Someone else lingered in the fog. She strained to see who might be hiding in the clearing with her. Tendrils of vapor slithered up the trees hugging their trunks like forgotten lovers. They broke away from the trunks to form an archway. A shady feminine form stood within the gateway. This strange woman reached out to her. She dropped her basket of flowers and stepped toward the figure, entranced by the tune, until the refrain stopped. Another tentacle of the haze enveloped her ankle and tugged. She lost her footing and tottered toward the ground. She put up her hands to catch her fall, but before she hit it….

“Zieka.”
The pounding on the door drew her from her web of dreams. It took her a moment to come back from the dreamtime glade and find herself in bed and not on the hard ground. The melodic lullaby lingered. Zieka pushed the familiar night vision away. Nothing about the recurring dream surprised her. The strange woman had plagued her nights off and on for years. She swiped sleep from her eyes and glanced around her small home. The faint red glow of the remaining coals in the hearth helped to orient her. A chill lingered in the damp fall air. She rubbed her arms and pushed the dust of her recurring nightmare away. She pushed her brown hair from her face and tied it back with a scrap of cloth. The door shook again forcing her to fetch a shawl. She threw the worn wrap around her shoulders to ward off the cold.
“Zieka.”
“I’m coming,” she muttered. She cracked the door open and stared into the desperate green eyes of a man dressed in leather armor. Streaks of mud lined his face. Dried blood matted his hair and trickled from a wound at his temple. “What do you want?”
“My…companion. He’s injured and requires your skills. Please, Zieka. You must help.”
She opened the door wider to inspect the man. His armor was as dirty as his face was bloody. He held his side and winced as he shifted his weight. Another form lay behind him. The soldier’s desperation beat against her the way he had hammered on her door.
“We have gold. Please,” he entreated her, “they’re not far behind.” The baying of hounds echoed off the trees and through the narrow path which led to her home. Fog wisps wrapped around the trees, creeping closer to the clearing where her house was situated. She glanced at the sky and the sun flashed red again as though she remained in her dream. The dogs’ howls came again and reminded her she was awake. If the man remained beyond her walls, the vapor would consume him.
Closer.
Zieka threw the shawl off and pushed past the man on her doorstep. “Come, help me get him inside.”
The man limped along the footpath toward the entrance. Morning rain had darkened the protective symbols etched into the pillars of her gate. She spent many an hour boring into the stone to keep the unwanted from passing into her property. The yelping of canines drew nearer. Shadows within the fog rode the vapor to the outskirts of the wood. The weight of their presence pressed upon her as they lingered within the haze. Waiting. The wet scent of rot twitched her nose. She glanced over to the woodland. The dim roiled closer to the edge of the dell drawn toward the scent of fresh blood.
Zieka tried to grip the wounded man, but the slippery blood made it tricky to get a hold of him. The other slung his comrade’s arm around his neck. The burden of his added weight bogged her down. They slogged the fallen soldier toward the perimeter of her property. Based on all the blood seeping from the man, she didn’t suspect he would live. As her fingers brushed along his arm, the stirrings of her power yearned to search out his many injuries and heal them. She pushed her gift away to get him inside of her hut. Zieka grunted as the man slid down from her grip. She grabbed a long his belt. The dogs howled once more. Behind them came the thunder of hooves. An arrow whizzed by her and landed at her feet. The soldier, who banged on the door, grunted and collapsed to the ground. Another shaft flew by her side. The man in her arms moaned. One last pull got him through the gate and onto her property.
Zieka eased him down against a stump, shook her arms from the release of his dead weight, and took a breath. Hounds raced into the clearing she assumed chasing the smell of the man slumped against the cragged stump. The fog followed the cacophony of hooves corralling the horses into the meadow before her house. Riders halted on the outskirts of her land. The dogs cowered and huddled around the mounts as the vapor encircled the riding party.
The head rider dismounted. He poked the fallen soldier with his boot. When he didn’t stir, the man turned toward her. Zieka didn’t break his gaze. Over the years she had encountered others like him, but his try at intimidation did nothing to sway her. Two men in his company leveled their crossbows at her. The wounded man by the stump groaned. The dogs whimpered as the haze inched closer to the riders. The horses paced nervously drawing closer to her house.
“Give us the murder, and we’ll leave you in peace,” their leader demanded. His red hair glinted in the sunlight. His grip tightened on the pommel of his sword. The design of a winged beast glared at her from his leather breastplate. The workmanship of the armor and the finely tailored shirt underneath indicated his status as a noble. However, she did not recognize his insignia.
“I’m not about to surrender him to you,” she replied.
He tried to cross the threshold of her property. The protective symbols in the rocks glowed white. A pulse of energy, like a wave of heat, traveled the stonewall until it enclosed her land. He tried once more but met the resistance of the magical barrier and flashed her a hateful glance. Behind him, one of the horses shrieked in pain. Fog coiled around their legs and tried to drag them to the ground.
“Sir, we have to go. It’s not safe. We’ve angered the damos.”
Their leader kept his blue-eyed gaze fixed on Zieka not moved by his man’s statement. “Turn him over. You don’t know what you’re getting involved with if you don’t. Your little scribbles can’t keep me or them out forever.”
“Even if you return, I won’t relinquish him to you.”
The leader’s eyes narrowed. One of the horses screamed. He turned back toward his men and swore. The thickened vapor encircled the search party.
“Sir, please.”
A strand of fog snaked around one of the dogs and pulled the animal into it. The leader grumbled, mounted his horse, and kicked his heels into the sides of his mount. They raced from the clearing to escape the swelling fog leaving Zieka with her charge. She shook her head as they retreated knowing the leader’s threats weren’t empty. The glade hazed over until the miasma surrounded her property blocking any view of the forest. A dark shadow glided by the entrance, but she ignored it. The entities within never crossed the barriers of her land.
Zieka dragged the injured man into her house and hoisted him onto her bed. His pallor grew as more blood seeped onto her blankets and her hands. She grabbed a knife, cut away the fabric of his shirt, and tossed it away toward the fireplace. A few of his scratches were superficial, but the ones which his life left him had struck some vital organ. Another wound had hit close to the artery under his arm. Her fingers traced over the various scars marring his body. She closed her eyes taking stock of his injuries in her mind’s eye. Zieka could see the places which needed to be tended to first where the breaks in the energy field surrounding his body had weakened. Her hand landed on the wound under his arm. Herbs wouldn’t hasten this kind of healing. She took in a breath, concentrating her energy into her hands. Her mind dropped away. Her power flowed down her spine like molten metal, fusing with her bones, until it consumed her. Zieka directed the healing magic toward his injuries. She bit her tongue as the pain intensified. The space under his arm where the energy gushed out like his blood sealed over. Her power then rushed to the damage on his side near his liver. Her fingers traveled along the plane of his stomach. Another surge of energy charged through her. In her mind’s eye, the man’s aura sealed itself. The healing power cooled in her fingers. She opened her eyes and her hands roved the rest of his body. He would survive. The others gashes she could make poultices for.
Her head spun as exhaustion overtook her. When she tried to stand up, Zieka collapsed back into her chair as her body cooled. Once she could move without shaking, she gathered a few dried herbs suspended from her ceiling. She threw them into her mortar and ground them with her pestle. Zieka added a little bit of water and plucked one herb which made her healing foolproof. Seven silver vigata petals clung to the stem in the shape of a bell. Dark green leaves, as big as her hand, looked freshly picked. She crushed a leaf and a petal between her fingers and added it to the mixture. It turned the same silvery hue as the flower. She spread the paste on clean cloths and placed them on her patient’s remaining wounds so they wouldn’t fester. She gathered her energy for another scan. His breathing evened out and his body responded to her curing. Zieka pressed her hand to his forehead and pushed her magic into him with the intention for his slumber to deepen. After a ragged inhale, his body relaxed.
Her head throbbed. She settled into her seat, safe to recover her strength from the healing she performed. Her eyelids drooped and she surrendered to a dreamless sleep.The next time she opened her eyes, her charge rested on his arm, watching her. Zieka jumped. His striking honey golden gaze held hers. She forced a smile and composed herself, breaking away from his compelling stare. “You need to lay back down,” she urged him.
“They’ll be coming for me. Where are my men?” Her patient tried to rise and grunted in pain.
She eased him down. He grabbed her wrist and his irises burned gold. A light pressure, like a spiderweb, descended over her. Zieka pried his fingers off her wrist and gently pushed him back to the bed. His eyes flashed with confusion. “Your magic won’t work on me. The man who brought you here is dead. If you had others in your company, I assume they met the same fate. Those pursuing you retreated after the fog slithered out of the forest. Their leader vowed to return with a force to take you. He said you are a killer. Is that true?”“I swear to you, I’m not. They are the ones who chased me from my castle and performed horrible deeds. I had to flee.” He stared at her imploring her with his eyes. Zieka let out a long sigh. She didn’t know if she should believe him, but she would not turn him away because he was hurt.
“Well, he won’t be coming in. He couldn’t cross my threshold. My magic keeps out any who mean me harm. Your man begged me to save you before he passed into the Twilight Realm.” Zieka lifted one of the poultices. His skin had knitted back together underneath leaving a faint scar.
“Could you not save my man?” He touched her hand once more. This time the pressure upon her mind tightened like a rope trying to bind her. His eyes went completely black as he forced his magic upon her, trying to bend her will.
She sighed. Men never learned. Zieka gathered her power and swiped her finger across his forehead moving his hay-colored hair from his face. His influence around her dissolved. “He was killed by those hunting you. Before he died, he said you had gold.”
His gaze didn’t leave hers as his eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“I’m…” The question always arose with those she treated. The answer sat on the tip of her tongue. Her name. Once upon a time, she had a true name. A sharp stab sliced her temple. Whenever she wanted to utter her name, the pain hit her. After a time, she avoided the memory altogether. “I’m Zieka.”
“I know you’re a healer, but what’s your name?”
“My vocation has become my name. Many seasons have passed since I’ve had a true identity. Who are you?” Zieka studied his eyes. More questions about her lingered underneath the surface.
“I’m Luca.”
“Nice to meet you. Did you steal from them? Is this the reason why you can pay me in gold? Or is there some other reason you claim they chased you from your castle? Maybe you’re really a thief who should be locked up in the dungeon.” She dipped a ladle into her barrel of rainwater and handed it to him. Luca gulped it down before holding it out for more. Zieka gave him another ladleful and took a sip of it herself. In a separate bowl, she crushed up a bit of dried herbs, mixed them with the water, and then dipped a cloth into the concoction. She dabbed at the cuts on Luca’s torso. Her fingers tingled, but she ignored her gift. His body and the herbs would heal the remaining wounds. He needed rest, but she didn’t know how long they would have before the soldiers returned.
Luca hissed when she touched one of his gashes. An angry red scar remained where she had sealed his wound. His gaze remained heavy on her while she worked, but she ignored him. “How am I alive? I hovered on the edge of the Twilight Realm ready to join my ancestors as they called to me. I felt their chilled touch. Why didn’t I pass into their hands?”
“I have the healing gift. I mended your most grievous injuries. When your man gave his life for you, I figured you were important.”
“I owe you my life. I’m in your debt.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need to be repaid in favors.”
He pulled a pouch on his belt and tossed it to her. The bag landed with a heavy thunk on the floor. She weighed it in her hand. This would keep her well supplied. “Consider it a partial payment. You say I’m in your debt, but you took me in and with it the trouble it’ll surely bring you.”
“You did steal it then and you’re lying now.” She threw the money onto the table in disgust.
“The money isn’t stolen. I assure you. I’m not lying. Their leader murdered my family in the hopes of overthrowing the kingdom. They need me dead to complete their task. You’ve risked your life aiding me. How is it you kept the soldiers from storming into your house to finish me off?” Luca pushed himself up and leaned against her pillow.
Zieka glanced at him. Revealing her secrets to this strange man didn’t set well with her. He brought danger to her doorstep and treating him threatened her way of life. However, she couldn’t leave a man being hunted to be killed. She figured they had a couple of days at best before the soldiers returned for their bounty. Her patient had to be well enough to leave or she would be dragged further into their conflict. From her confrontation with the soldiers, she doubted they would leave her unmolested for taking in Luca.
“They can’t cross the enchantments protecting the grounds. I set them to keep out the daimons.”
“Daimons?” Luca asked.
She shook her head. He wouldn’t understand the tales about the ancient beings who lurked in the forest and came out with the mist. “The creatures who live in the wood. They linger within the fog which slowly devours the land bringing it into their realm and killing any living thing it touches.”
“Have you ever seen these daimons?” His voice came out in a whisper.
Something in his tone made her realize he knew more than what he was letting on. Zieka didn’t know how much to share. Most villagers she came across whispered about the daimons and used handmade talismans to ward them off and save their crops from the advancing miasma. It rolled over the earth, consuming whatever it touched like a blood thirsty animal. If it retreated, the land remained a blackened husk. The daimons followed the mist. Zieka shivered when she thought about the creatures. More beautiful than anything she had ever seen and even more sinister. Some said they were once gods, fallen and twisted, underneath their glamour. One of daimons in particular kept his eye on her. She had only seen the one because he wouldn’t leave her in peace. The others she sensed when she stepped into the forest to gather herbs.
“Yes, I’ve seen them.” She turned her attention back to the man in her care.
“Tell me what they looked like.”
Zieka cleared her throat and shoved the dark thoughts away. “Let’s not dwell on those creatures. To think about them can summon the daimons close to this sphere. They may leave me alone, but other families reside near the edge of the wood. I wouldn’t want them to suffer the daimon’s wraith. Let me make dinner, and you can tell me why your men sacrificed themselves for you.”
Luca groaned and lay back down. He stared at the ceiling while she stoked the fire. As it grew darker, the fog crept out of the trees and banked across the stones of her property. Zieka stared into the haze obscuring her view of the forest. A shadow paced along the line of her wall, searching for a weakness in her protection spell, waiting for her to cross the threshold. She would not be lured out. She focused on fixing their meal. Zieka dropped the meat and vegetables into a cooking pot with the water and waited. She washed her hands and glanced outside. The shadow stood outside of her gate staring at the house. She forced herself to turn from the lurking daimon and back to Luca.
“You were going to tell me about yourself.” Zieka sorted through her herbs to see what needed restocking after using her supplies on him.
“I’m a wanted man. What more do you need to know?” Luca replied.
“I deduced that by the soldiers chasing you and them shooting arrows at me.”
“Goram drove me from my lands. He convinced the court and royal guard I slaughtered my entire family when it was him. He gleans to murder every last royal in my bloodline. I returned from hunting to find my family’s lifeless bodies scattered throughout the house. My father lingered in a slumber between this world and the Twilight Realm. Goram found me and called the guards saying I killed them all. Men loyal to me snuck me out of the castle from the dungeons. We stayed off the road, keeping to the forest trails. The only hope of true escape was to divide the road and take the enchanted path. Goram shouldn’t have been able to follow, but he found a way.”
“What do you mean about dividing the road and taking the enchanted path?” Zieka wasn’t convinced with his story.
“I didn’t kill my family. I loved them. My brothers and sister were babes. My stepmother was with child. I wouldn’t commit such a heinous act. I’m well versed in divining the hidden trails within the wood.” He slammed his fist against the stuffed pallet she used for a mattress. His eyes glistened and he turned away to hide his tears.
Movement by the window near her bed caught her attention. The daimon’s shadow lingered by the front entrance to her property. She sighed. He would not leave unless she went out to him. Luca’s anger and the unspent emotion convinced her of his story. This Goram had framed him and needed him dead in order to carry out some awful plan. One reason she enjoyed being on her own is she bowed her head to no one. “I’m sorry for your family. Forgive me, I’ll return after I check on something outside.” She headed toward the door.
“You risk your life going out there. The damos inhabit the fog. Some say the mist is alive and works with the damos.”
“I’ve never heard that. Rest.” She flashed him a small smile and opened the door.

Remember to check out other posts in the Blog Hop.

October Frights Book Fair: https://afstewart.ca/october-frights-book-fair/

October Frights Giveaway: https://storyoriginapp.com/to/fPAZCcZ

Participant List

Hawk’s Happenings

Always Another Chapter

Crymsyn Hart

Be Afraid of the Dark

Camilla Voiez, British Horror Author

Frighten Me

Angela Yuriko Smith: Exercising My Writes

GirlZombieAuthors

James P Nettles

EV Whyte, Author

Silver Hollow Stories

So true story, I went ghost hunting with friends some years ago. Being stupid about it, we ended up in a graveyard, not asking the permission of the owners or the ghosts to be there. It’s all dark and scary and we have a couple of digital recorders hoping to get something. We broke up into a couple of groups and ventured further into the cemetery. We stopped by a couple of graves and asked the typical, “Is there anyone there? Can you tell us your name?” questions.

Didn’t hear anything. So we keep going. Now me, being psychic, sensed something dark in the back of the burial ground and it wasn’t happy we were there. It comes out of the woods like a force. I warn the others and we run like bats outta the belfry booking it out of the there. Needless to say, when we get out, we’re met by a police officer who asked what we were doing there. We tell him and then let him know something was following us. This guys is a big muscular guy and has his hand on his gun ready to dive in and see who was after us. Once we tell him it was a ghost, he’s like nope. And politely asks us to leave. Which we did.

Later one we did listen to the digital recorders and heard someone say hello. Moral of the story, get permission from the owners of whatever place you’re going into and be respectful.

However, from that experience, I did write a short story about what could happen if you go chasing after things that go bump in the night called Legend Tripping which is free for your reading pleasure.

Remember to check out other posts in the Blog Hop.

October Frights Book Fair: https://afstewart.ca/october-frights-book-fair/

October Frights Giveaway: https://storyoriginapp.com/to/fPAZCcZ

Participant List

Hawk’s Happenings

Always Another Chapter

Crymsyn Hart

Be Afraid of the Dark

Camilla Voiez, British Horror Author

Frighten Me

Angela Yuriko Smith: Exercising My Writes

GirlZombieAuthors

James P Nettles

EV Whyte, Author

Silver Hollow Stories

It’s October so that means it’s spooky season where the ghouls and ghosts come out to play. October is my favorite month as it is for so many others. Temperatures are finally cooling down. Leaves are changing and the smell of fall is in the air. Apple cider and cider donuts. All the wonderful Halloween decorations on people’s lawns. It gets me into the spirit to keep on writing something frightening.

Sometimes getting into a character’s headspace can be a little difficult because, let’s face it, I’m not a vampire, cereal killer, or a grim reaper. Sometimes I need a good song to get me there. Check out one of the playlists I listen to to get me into the headspace where I need to do some slicing and dicing.

Don’t forget to check out the Blog Hop for the other October Fright Authors and see what screams they have waiting for you.

October Frights Book Fair

October Frights Giveaway