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Assassin’s Heart by Monica Burns

The laser hit his skin again from his ear down to his jaw. The pain pulled a pitched scream of agonized terror from him, and he fell backward into a black pool of nothingness—his last thought was of Ancient Rome and Phaedra running to meet him. He was home again.

He had no idea how long he’d been out, but when he awoke, everything was silent and dark. Was it nighttime in the Elysium Fields? He tried to sit up. The slight movement sent fire streaking through every cell in his body. He started to cry. The Praetorian bastardo had left him here to die. Alone. His own son.

He grew still with horror. He wasn’t Sicari. He was Praetorian. The obscene thought pulled a cry of denial from him. His mind hovered on the brink of despair. Impossible. It couldn’t be true. But they shared the same birthmark. The whisper of truth curled through his head. He wouldn’t believe it. The bastardo was lying. A teardrop rolled over his skinned cheek, and it pulled a sob of anguish from him.

“Fotte. Fotte. Fotte.”

It was a roar of fear and helplessness, as well as a cry of agony. More tears flowed over his bared muscles, until the pain sent him back to that dark place again.

Voices filtered their way down into the pit, and he shuddered with terror. They’d come back for him. Like a wild animal anticipating more torture, he tugged at his restraints ignoring the fire that consumed his body. He wouldn’t be able to keep the figlio di puttana out of his head this time. He heard running feet, and then he smelled the soft scent of a woman. Marta?

“Sweet Juno.” Cleo leaned over him, her cool hand brushing across his forehead. Horror widened her eyes as she stared down at him. In the next instant, she spoke into her mic. “Lysander’s alive, but I don’t know for how much longer. He needs the Curavi. Now.”

He couldn’t hear the response she got, but a sudden image of Phaedra filled his head. She was here. A subtle warmth filled him as her fear and worry for him whispered sweetly across his mind. Deus, he needed her right now. Needed to feel her touch. Her hand in his, her healing—no.

The sound of feet pounded on the warehouse floor once more, and first Ares then Phaedra came into view. He’d never seen a more beautiful, yet terrifying, sight in his entire life. He couldn’t take part in seeing her lovely face marred by his injuries. Couldn’t let her see the monster inside him. Terror lanced through him as she reached for his hand. Tormented, he tugged at his restraints.

“No. No Curavi.”

Cleo clamped down on his arm. “Merda, he’s out of his mind with pain.”

“For the love of God, Cleo. Tighten those restraints.” Panic laced through Phaedra’s voice. “I can’t heal him if he’s fighting me. I’ll heal the lesser injuries first. Then we can transport him. When we’re home, I’ll…I’ll do what I can for his other wounds.”

He saw her swallow hard and recognized her fear. The idea of her taking on his injuries was a nightmare, but he knew without a doubt that when she touched him she’d be able to see all the darkness inside him. He was too weak to keep her locked out of his thoughts if she touched him. She’d see. She’d see everything because the pain was too horrible to prevent her from learning the truth.

“No,” he roared. “No Curavi.”

The strength of his voice echoed loudly in the room, and he heard Ares utter a vicious curse while Cleo grasped his hand in a death grip. Fear and horror darkened Phaedra’s eyes as bent over him. Her mouth brushed across the ear on his unmarked cheek.

“Let me do this for you, carino,” she whispered in a sweet, gentle voice. “I’m not afraid.”

“No. Refuse the Curavi.”

He tried to shake his head as he forged through the pain and ground out the word forcefully. Couldn’t let her see. Her parents’ murder…hated Praetorians…couldn’t bear her hatred. He felt himself slipping off into oblivion and climbed up the cliff back into the pain. She’d heal him without his permission if he didn’t protest.

“Listen you dumb son of a bitch.” Cleo’s voice was harsh. “You let Phaedra heal you or I’m going to rip you a new one. You hear me?”

“No…dead already.” And he was. He was Praetorian, and if anyone found out…he’d rather die.

“Give me your hands, Lysander. With your permission, I must touch you to heal your injuries.” There was a frantic desperation in Phaedra’s voice, but it only made him clench his hands into tight fists.

“I. Refuse. Curavi.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was strong and determined. He heard someone nearby release a vicious sound. Ares. His Legatus pushed Cleo aside to grip his arm with force.

“Take the goddamn, Curavi, you sorry bastardo.”

Something wet hit his unscarred cheek and his gaze shifted from Ares to Phaedra. In the dim light, he could see tears clinging to her lashes. He wouldn’t hurt her. Wouldn’t let her see he was everything she hated. He loved her too much. He released a sob of pain.

“Is. My. Right. Refuse. Curavi.” Each word was a labor of effort to say.

“No,” Phaedra exclaimed violently. “I’m not about to let you die, you dumb bacciagalupe.”

Visit’s Alison’s Blog…next up in the September Sizzle’s contest…

September Sizzles…

Would you like to win a signed book from Monica’s available backlist*?  Just leave a comment to enter.  Commenting also enters you to win a $150 GC to the online book retailer of your choice (we must be able to purchase a gift certificate from within the US.)  If you visit each participating author’s blog and comment, that increases your odds of winning. Visiting/commenting at each participating author blog will get your five entries. However, only one comment per blog.

Rules:

• Contest runs through 9/17/2010
• One comment/entry per blog
• Winners to be posted by 9/30/2010 on the participating authors’ blogs
• You must check back at the authors’ blogs to send if you have won-if you don’t claim your prize within one week, you forfeit your prize.
• Void where prohibited
• Please make sure to abide by hosting author’s standard contest rules.

ETA: *please note… the contest isn’t for this book… it’s for a title from Monica’s backlist-one of her older releases… thank you!

Today is National Buy a Book Day…whether you pick up mine, or somebody else’s, can you drop into your local bookstore and buy a book? Not online, but actually visit a bookstore if you can?  We’re hearing more and more about independent bookstores closing down, how Borders is having more layoffs, and B & N is shutting stores.  According to writer Jaye Wells, Times Magazine actually had it listed in an article “Top Ten Things Today’s Kids Won’t Experience“… Read a Real Book… You know me, I love my ebooks, I love my Nook and my Sony.  But I love my print books and I love my bookstores, too.  If you’ve got a few minutes, can you hit your local bookstore and buy a book?  Any book–for you, for a friend, for a kid you want to introduce to the joy of reading…  **First heard about National Buy A Book Day via Jaye Wells

With demons running amok throughout the forests and mountains, a rebel army has been established to win back the land—and a new soldier has appeared out of nowhere to join them.

His name is Xan, and his past is a mystery to everyone, including Laisyn Caar—a beautiful captain in the rebel army—who is shocked by the powerful, all-consuming desire she feels in his presence.

But now isn’t the time for distraction. The future of her land—and of her people—is in her hands. On top of that, she’s been stripped of her magic—and without it she feels like part of her soul has been stolen away.

But when she discovers the dark secrets of Xan’s agenda, it will be up to her to determine whether the man she’s starting to love is a friend of her people—or a dreaded enemy…

Excerpt…

“You bastard—”

That was all Lothen managed to get out before he ended up flat on his back with all of the breath knocked out of him. He lay there choking and sputtering for air. His opponent stood there expressionless. Lo came to his feet and shoved sweaty hair back from his face. “That was a dirty fucking trick,” he wheezed.

“Sometimes it takes dirty fucking tricks to stay alive,” Xan replied.

Syn stood off to the side, with her arms crossed over her chest. The man had some serious moves on him. She called out to Lo and gestured for him to leave the sparring circle. Catching Bron’s eye, she nodded toward their newest. Bron cocked a brow—she saw the question in his eyes. She answered with a smile, and as Bron entered the circle, she stripped away her weapons.

Bron kept him moving. A fellow captain, a lifelong soldier, Bron fought with speed and stealth. He’d started out as a scout, but now he was in charge of one of the combat units. He was good. He was fast. But he wasn’t as fast or as good as their new guy. Syn could only think of one other guy who fought so naturally—like it was as natural to him as breathing.

“He’s good,” Kalen murmured from just behind her shoulder.

She grinned. “Now why am I not surprised to see you here, Commander?”

“Just passing by and caught sight of our new boys. Decided to take a look.”

Calling Xan a boy didn’t fit, Syn thought to herself.

“You playing today?” he asked.

Syn lifted a shoulder. “Unless you plan to.”

Bron went flying passed them—literally. He landed with an “oomph” and lay there for a few seconds, a dazed look in his eyes. His lean face went red as he tried to breathe.

Syn and Kalen grinned at each other. Then Kalen said, “I’ll pass. Lee and I are doing some hand-to-hand tonight. I’d rather not start off injured. I’ll let you have the fun today.”

“Coward.” Syn clucked her tongue. She watched, gauging the distance, as Xan started toward Bron. As he offered a hand to the other man, Syn moved.

She went for his feet and as he went down, she slid away.

It was like hitting a brick wall, she decided. A heated brick wall. She was so used to being cold, but the moment she touched him, even though her touch was an attack and not a caress, his heat chased away the chill and left her entire body suffused with warmth.

He outweighed her, outreached her, and stood nearly a head taller than she did. Which pretty much described every sparring partner she’d ever had.

That unreadable gaze of his didn’t change, but she sensed some surprise coming off him as he came to his feet. Bron was up, too, and he moved so that he stood just a little behind Syn and off to the side. It was a choreographed move—they’d done this a thousand times and they’d do it a thousand more.

“So now it is two on one,” Xan said, his voice emotionless.

“It can be a lot of fun.” Syn flashed him a cheeky smile, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet. Her heart was racing. Her skin felt warm, edging close to hot as she waited.

Xan didn’t make a move toward her, even though she stood the closest. He circled around, trying to make for Bron. Even after he had Bron back down, he didn’t engage with her. Syn lifted a brow and asked, “You do have a second opponent you have to take down.”

“I’m not putting a woman on the ground.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t the first time she’d been told that, and she’d handle it the same way she handled it every other time. The cold knot tried to settle back inside her, but it faded when she attacked him—when she touched him.

He deflected her next attack. And the next. Bron was back on his feet at that point, though, and as he moved toward Bron, Syn went for another takedown. He went down and as he did, he tried to catch her feet.

She was prepared for him though, springing away at just the last second. Xan got back on his feet, and this time, the look he shot her seemed a little bit perturbed.

“You can either spar me straight on, or I’ll keep coming at your back.”

“I’m not fighting with a woman.”

“Then get out,” she told him. She wasn’t touching him now and as she crossed her arms over her chest, the cold knot returned. “The gate’s that way. You can walk out now. If you move quickly enough, you can probably catch up to the convoy. But you don’t get to pick and choose your poison here, my friend. You do it my way, or you hit the road.”

His eye narrowed on her face. “You sound very certain of that fact.”

“With good reason.”

With the exception of Xan and Syn, everybody turned to look at Kalen as he entered the circle. He stood a few inches taller than Xan. He wore cavinir—a light, form-fitting armor that clung to a hard, leanly muscled body.

Kalen had been born a warrior, forced to become a leader. At a time when he should have been dreaming about girls and dreading his impending adulthood, he’d been on the front line of their war.

He circled to stand in front of Xan, pinning the other man with a cool, silvery gaze. “Nobody stays in my camp without proving they can hold their own. Nobody stays in my camp without showing they know how to handle themselves, without showing they know how to take orders. That includes training—you either spar with Captain Caar, as ordered, or you get the hell out.”

“I don’t believe in harming women,” Xan growled.

“It’s not about harming women.” Syn moved between them and gave Kalen a narrow look. He inclined his head and fell back, letting her handle it. There was one thing she could rely on to chase away the chill, and that was anger. Right now, it flooded her, and she welcomed it—welcomed it and channeled it.

Giving Xan a pointed stare, she said, “I’m not calling you on the floor to get hurt, Xan. Trust me, I don’t like pain, although I am used to it. But this isn’t about hurting me, hurting women. It’s called training—we all do it.”

“Then train women against women. Females are naturally weaker than males—the risk for injury to the woman is too high, even in training.”

“So this is about having a level playing field?” Syn snorted. “Sure, because we’re fighting a war where there’s always an excess of fairness.”

Xan stared at her, his black gaze unflinching. “I do not raise my hand to women.”

Syn smirked. “That’s a way of thinking that could end up with you getting hurt—in a serious way.” She glanced past him and her smile took on a decidedly devilish twist. “Bron, you’re out. Elina. Coryan.”

Elina Corsairs, long and lean, came at him from his right, a blur of movement. She was all speed and grace and as he moved to deflect her attack, the other woman came up behind him.

Coryan Holder stood at six feet and her body was nearly as broad as Xan’s. As he backed away from Elina, Coryan caught him in a wrestler’s hold and wrenched him off his feet. He went down and as one, the three women in the circle moved on him.

Elina ended up on her ass first. She would have moved back in but Syn caught her eye and shook her head.

Now facing Coryan and Syn, Xan grimaced. He looked between the two women, his gaze measuring.

Finally. Syn knew what sort of picture they presented. Coryan had the muscle mass to rival a man’s and her face was scarred, hardened from battle and years of a harsh life. Syn had faced that same hard life, and many of the same battles, but she was slender, not particularly tall and she looked . . . well, soft.

He’d go for Coryan next, she figured. Eliminate what he perceived as the biggest threat.

This wasn’t a new scenario for her. Too many of the men who wanted to join the rebellion showed up with preconceived notions—they were fighting a war against those that preyed on their females, and having those females involved directly in the fight went against their baser instincts.

He feinted toward Coryan but at the last minute, he changed direction. Moving too damn fast, he came for Syn. Only one thing saved her—he wasn’t used to fighting somebody half his size. She darted away, relying on her flexibility and years of experience to evade him. It was close, though. She felt the disturbance in the air ripple against her flesh. He didn’t waste any time and came at her again, harder. Faster.

Syn took his legs out from under him, but he was prepared this time, and when he went down, so did she. Trapped under his bigger body, she sucked air into her lungs.

Heat.

Once more, touching him flooded her with heat, heat that suffused every fiber of her being, chasing away the chill. For the briefest moment, they were close, close as lovers, and she let herself revel in that heat, let herself feel his strength, feel all of him. But not enough . . . nowhere near enough.

Through their clothes, she could feel the heavy thud of his heart, beating so close to hers.

Then he spoke, and the spell shattered.

“This isn’t a fair fight,” he said in a monotone.

Working her hands in between them, she jabbed at his neck. He went red and gasped for air. As he went to shove away from her, she caught him between his legs with her knee.

It was utterly silent, save for the strange, choked sound he made deep in his throat as he rolled to the side. Syn came to her feet and stood over him.

“You’re damn right it’s not a fair fight,” she told him. “But then again, you can’t win a war, you can’t survive if you’re busy complaining about a fair fight.”

She moved to the edge of the circle, watching Xan from under her lashes. He recovered quick, rolling to his feet and watching her with a mix of disbelief and anger. The anger melted away, replaced by that same measuring gaze he’d focused on every other fighter he’d met in the circle.

About damn time.

“When I was ten, my mother was taken from me—she’d hidden me with my older brother, told him to keep me quiet, no matter what. I couldn’t do a damn thing to help her. All I could do was listen, helpless, as five Sirvani dragged her away from me. I never saw her again.” A knot tried to form in her throat, but she ignored it. “My father had died the year before in a raid. My brother died two years later on a scouting mission. I was just a child and I was alone. There’s nothing fair in that. But complaining about it didn’t bring them back.”

“Fighting an unfair fight will not bring them back,” he said.

“No. But it might help another girl—it has helped other girls, other boys. Innocent children. The women of this world can’t sit by the wayside, letting the men fight. If we want safety, we have to fight for it. It’s about survival, not fairness. I didn’t learn how to survive by only fighting the battles I could win. I learned how to survive by fighting the battles I couldn’t win.”

He inclined his head. “Point taken.”

Kalen stood at her back. Bron was at her right. Elina and Coryan waited patiently at her left.

But she didn’t look at any of them. She took three steps, placing her body once more inside the circle.

“Lets try this again,” she said, staring at Xan and nothing else. “We do this my way, or you leave. The next time I tell you to step into the circle and fight a woman, what are you going to do?”

A faint smile curled his lips just before he attacked.

He spoke with no trace of an accent. Hell, if it wasn’t for his clothing, if it wasn’t for the way her gut screamed at the sight of him, she could have mistaken him for one of her people.

“How considerate of you, showing such concern for us.” She bared her teeth at him. “Any other reasons why you’re darkening my doorstep?”

His brows came together, a puzzled frown on his face. “I’ve yet to darken a doorstep, witch.”

“You’re too damn close to our territory—too damn close to a whole lot of people who’d sooner gut you than look at you. Why in the holy hell are you here? Where are the rest of your men?”

With a humorless smirk on his lips, he said, “It doesn’t look as though I have any men.”

“Not buying it.” Syn shook her head. “Warlords don’t travel alone. Where are the others?”

“There are none. I’m what you would call a…” He paused, his head cocked as though he was trying to find the word. “A deserter,” he finished, his voice cool and regal.

Off in the forest, they heard another ominous crack and the ground under them shuddered as one of the forest giants went crashing to the ground. They were going to be dealing with downed trees for a while, she suspected. Glancing up into the canopy, she hoped none of the trees around them gave out just yet.

Unless of course, one of them fell on the Warlord’s head.

Xan lifted a hand, rested it on her shoulder. He dipped his head and quietly said, “It isn’t safe to stay here, Captain.”

“Agreed,” Kalen said, his voice flat and hard.

Damn it, she knew that. But damn it, she didn’t know what to do. Tersely, she said, “What about him?”

She glanced at Kalen, one quick glance, because she wasn’t looking away from the Warlord for any longer than two seconds.

He didn’t answer outloud. His voice, hard and harsh with worry, blasted into her mind with enough force that she almost flinched. “I don’t know what in the hell to do, but I don’t think it’s wise to just leave him here.”

“How do we know he’s telling the truth about being a deserter? And what in the hell does that mean anyway? Why did he help us?”

Kalen’s silver flashed. “I don’t know. And we don’t if he’s telling the truth—you or Elina need to look at him. I can’t do it—if he’s ever encountered a psychic before, he’ll know how to modify his thoughts, but he can’t alter his basic emotional landscape. Look at him—if he’s a threat, kill him. Here and now. Otherwise, he comes with us. But he doesn’t leave here alone.”

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Two seconds later, she was on her feet, with his arms wrapped tight around her waist. In that moment, she didn’t mind a bit. She let herself take a few seconds and then she eased away, looking for the others. The air was thick with dust, ash and debris and she grabbed a small, folded mask from her pocket. The thin mask would filter out the worst of the debris and she just hoped it thinned closer back to camp.

They were still miles away and the winds were blowing to west, hopefully it would carry most of the desk into the mountains.

Squinting to see through the clouded air, she searched for her friends. Kalen was leaning against a tree, holding his unconscious wife close to his chest. Egan climbed to his feet and swiped at the blood trickling from a gash in his head. Elina was in the middle of the small clearing, staring off into the west. Under the dirt and blood, she was smiling.

“How’s Lee?” Syn asked.

The commander stroked a hand down her face, resting his fingers in the hollow of her throat. “Her pulse is fine and I can feel her.”

Syn knew he wasn’t talking about physically. He shot Syn a relieved smile and said, “I think she’s going to be fine. The fuck didn’t have her long enough to do damage.”

With the exception of Lee, all of them were conscious and nobody looked to have an serious injuries. Bloodied, but no major injuries.

Uneasy, she kept her weapon at ready as she did a head count.

Seven humans, quite a few Raviner corpses. Or rather…six humans, and one fucking Warlord and quite a few Raviner corpses.

Peering over her shoulder, she stared at Xan, touched his face to reassure he was well. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her bloodied palm. The sight of him hit her hard and fast, leaving her head spinning and her heart racing. It was hell, having feelings for a guy when she might have to send him to his death on any given day.

She moved to stand by Kalen, placing her self at his side if he needed her. Lee was unconscious—helpless.

And there was a fucking Warlord. Ten feet away.

They were miles from the base, one of their witches was unconscious, and most of them had some form of injury or another. Syn narrowed her eyes. Even if she wasn’t a superstitious witch, that would have had her instincts howling.

He had no earthly business here.

Keeping her weapon ready, she stared at the man.

“Warlord.” Kalen said the word as though it left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

It certainly had that affect on Syn.

He didn’t bother to deny it, just inclined his head. Even if he’d tried, even if he wasn’t wearing a Warlord’s garb, he couldn’t hide himself from Syn. She could feel the Gate magic in him. He might not able to use it, but it was still there. Her gift recognized his—his kind hunted hers. His kind enslaved hers. Her fingers itched to draw her pulsar and kill him—now. But curiosity, and perhaps something else, stayed her hand.

Xan came to stand at her side, but she didn’t so much as glance at him, unwilling to look away from the threat.

Kalen glared at the man. The Warlord’s gaze flicked to Lee and Syn moved to stand in front of Lee, blocking the man’s gaze of her friend.

“Why are you here, Warlord?” she asked. Does he even understand me?

He flicked a disinterested glance around him and then looked back at Syn. “At the moment, it would appear I’m standing here with the lot of you while you linger and wait for more demons to appear.”

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No. It wasn’t him. As he turned to take down on the Raviners coming at her, she caught full sight of his face.

Syn hadn’t ever seen him before in her life and every instinct inside her screamed as he used his blade on one of the remaining Raviners, laying the thing’s neck wide open, nearly severing the head with one powerful blow. He moved like a pale shadow. Like death. Deadly and silent.

She couldn’t watch him, though, because she had still had one of the power-hungry creatures to deal with, close, too close, slashing at her with a blade of some foreign black metal.

The next time she saw the blond man, another Raviner had joined the mess of bodies on the forest floor.

Off to her right, Lee screamed and Syn turned just in time to see her friend go to her knees, clasping her head. A Raviner stood behind him, one pale hand lifted. Inside the depths of the thing’s robes, Syn could just barely make out the faint glimmer of its eyes.

Power. The thing reeked of it.

She jerked her pulsar up and aimed.

But before she could pull the trigger, a brawny arm came around the Raviner and then blood flowed as his neck was laid open. The Raviner collapsed to the ground, his blood bubbling out of the gaping wound in his throat. Xan…alive. Covered in grayish Raviner blood, but alive. Then he was gone, losing himself once more in the battle.

Fear left a metallic taste on her tongue. She didn’t fight it. She welcomed it. If she didn’t use the fear, it would use her.

Her gift whispered to her, begged to sink into the earth, to be set lose—to forge something larger than a ball of fire. Syn resisted. Not here. Not out in the open—using the bigger magic called too much attention. Instead, she lobbed fire into their faces, on after another and just hoped they’d burn like mad.

She shot a glance at the time and swore. Raising her voice, she bellowed, “Duck and cover!”

The ground started to rumble. What few remaining Raviners were there froze and then they darted into the forest. Seconds later, a deafening boom echoed through the woods. In seconds, the sky was obscured by smoke and debris.

Syn huddled against a tree, Xan’s body pressing into hers.

The earth shuddered, heaved. She caught the stench of wood burning—hot, acrid smoke flooded her head. Distantly, she heard inhuman shrieks. And deep inside, she felt the first wave of death.

Minutes passed.

It could have been hours. Days.

Thunderous cracks echoed through the forest as trees succumbed and went crashing to the earth. Ash choked the air.

After an eternity, all went still. Struggling to breathe, Syn shoved against Xan’s chest and rasped out, “Need air, lover.”

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See this book?

I haz it.

You want it.

Was awesome.

(thanks to the awesome Meljean for letting me read it early…read it one loooooonnnnggg sitting)

FYI, I’m on the road… will try to keep up with the blog while I’m gone but it may be a few days before I can respond to any comments or questions…

“Done?” she asked quietly. He nodded.

Just as she lifted her comm-unit, the others chirped.

Elina and Lee, almost in sync, each said, “Done.” Lee added in, “This baby is locked and loaded.”

Syn shook her head and muttered, “Don’t refer to the device as a child, Lee.”

Lee just laughed.

“Just need to get this set,” Syn said, ignoring Lee.

“Once we set them, we have forty-fives minutes to get clear and then these little bastards go boom.”

“I’m ready,” Elina said.

“Me, too. Let’s get this done.”

Syn caught Xan’s eye and nodded.

With one flick of his wrist, he armed the device. A timer flashed onto the display as they ran for the caribin.

Forty-five minutes. It should be plenty of time to get away safely, as long as the devices weren’t disturbed. They’d been set to detonate immediately if they were disturbed after being armed. For the next twenty or thirty minutes, Lee knew her heart was going to be somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, just out of nerves.

If a demon so much as touched one of those devices while they were in the area, they were dead—the demon and whatever team was unlucky enough to be in the area.

But as they drew closer to the rendezvous, nothing happened. She kept having Xan check the monitor and it showed the device was ticking away the minutes exactly as it had been programmed and no life-forms showed up even remotely close.

They had eight minutes left when they hit the rendezvous. Elina and Egan were already there.

Off in the distance, she heard the quiet hum of Kalen and Lee’s caribin. They had two stops, setting the fourth and final device, the one that would be closest to the camp, but they’d planted that one earlier and the monitor showed it to be in sync with the other three.

“Went off without a hitch,” Egan murmured, meeting her eyes and smiling.

But even as he said it, something cold settled in the bottom of Syn’s belly.

The monitor in Xan’s hand started beeping, sending out a warning.

Demons. Moving fast.

The wind kicked up, bringing with it the stink of brimstone. Death. Slowly, she turned and stared through the trees, in the direction she and Xan had come from.

Black-robbed figures. Raviners.

“Shit.”

Elina was at her side the word even left Syn’s mouth. She met the older woman’s gaze and said, “We should have known it couldn’t be that easy.”

“As long as your little boomers go boom, then we win,” Elina said, her voice flat. “Might be a bloody victory but who the hell cares?”

Bloody.

Yes. It got very bloody. The Raviners were alone this time, but there were nearly two dozen of them—and they were enraged. Even once Kalen and Lee arrived, just minutes later, the rebels were outnumbered.

Separated from Xan, Syn fought against two of the Raviners. She fought with both metal and magic, using her knife because they were too close for her to use her pulsar without injury to herself as well. She used small, focused bursts of fire, afraid to use anything larger for fear it might beckon to any other Raviners that lingered nearby.

He came out of nowhere. One moment he wasn’t there. The next moment, he was. He wore his blond hair in a club down his back and carried nothing but bladed weapons. A fighter that cut through the Raviners with the flash of metal. For one second, Syn thought it was Morne. He moved like him. He bore a vague similarity to the healer. Was it…?

Borders |BAMM | B & N | Book Depository | IndieBound | Amazon | Powell’s

So about that 2500 follower contest-I passed 2500 followers sometime recently.  That does mean… I will be doing a contest for a BN Nook.

BUT… it’s gotta wait until next week.  I’m leaving in the morning for Dragon*Con and um… well, I can’t handle juggling a contest while I’m also juggling DC.  Especially since this is my first time going and I have no idea what I’m getting into… Eek.

So next week, I’ll get the Nook contest going… yes, it will be a twitter only contest-be warned, I’ve got a book due out next week-it’s probably going to involve the book.  Still need to figure out what I’m doing with the contest, and how I’m going to do it.  But for those non-twittering folks, don’t worry, there’s going to be a blog contest starting here next week, too.

Image via Photobucket | dbthielman

I’m probably going insane today, since I leave tomorrow for DragonCon.  Driving down, not flying.  So instead of thinking up something clever and witty to blog about… why don’t all do it for me?    Any questions for me?

Can be book related, writing related…doesn’t matter.  Although, if it’s something that could get long, I reserve the right to answer the question in separate blog post…

By the way, I’m doing another twitter contest… if you’re twitter and you’re not following me, you might want to… if I hit 2500 followers by the time Veil of Shadows releases, I’ll be doing some sort of giveaway for a Nook (the BN ebook reader).  Details here~ And, one more thing…want to read a letter from Syn, the heroine from Veil of Shadows?  She’s talking about Xan, and how much trouble he was for both of us…

People put up free reads and now you want to make money off of their work, and naturally, copyright owners don’t get jack, and of course, copyright owners have to jump through hoops to get their work off your site, while pirates make merry…

And you get to make $$ of it?

Bad, bad manners…

Scribd gets greedy…

FYI, folks, if I were you?  I wouldn’t pay that subscription fee.