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Storm Warrior by
Genre: Paranormal Romance
BLURB OF STORM WARRIOR
Two thousand years ago, Rhys was the fierce Celtic warrior branded by the Romans as “the Bringer of Death.” Mortally wounded in battle, he was captured by the Fair Ones, cunning and powerful masters of the Welsh faery realm. They spared his life…but for a price. As a grim, he has roamed the earth as a messenger of death—until a single act of kindness breaks the ancient enchantment and delivers him into a strange new world…
As a child, Morgan Edwards marveled at the faery tales spun by her beloved grandmother, stories of the magical beings hidden in the heart of ancient Wales. But now Morgan is all grown up, a veterinarian who believes only in what science can prove—until the night a massive black dog saves her from a vicious attack, and life as she knows it changes forever. Suddenly a stranger stands before her, the man of her dreams made flesh and blood not by science, but by a magic that could bring them their hearts’ desires...or cost them everything they have.
Please keep in mind that this is an unedited excerpt and is subject to change.
“Come along, now.” Rhys made soothing sounds at the big gray mare. “True it is that it’s a fine day but you’re not healed enough yet to be walking o’er much.” Instead of obeying, however, Lucy’s nostrils flared and she threw her head, yanking back on the lead rope and even showing the whites of her eyes.
He didn’t urge her forward again. Many a warrior had been saved by heeding his mount’s warning. Horses could hear sounds too soft and too high for human ears, and Lucy was too steady a beast to start at nothing. Rhys stood where he was and carefully studied their surroundings for something, anything, out of place.
The September afternoon was warm and still, a pleasant remnant of late summer. Yet there was no birdsong and even the insects had gone silent. There were no bees laboring in the nearby clover. No sound at all except for the quivering breath of the horse beside him. Then suddenly Rhys frowned at a large patch of tall grass just ahead.
How was it managing to wave without a breeze?
The stems appeared to be disturbed from underneath the soil. A burrowing creature, a mole perhaps, might move a few blades of grass as it moved through the earth. But the area affected was much wider than Rhys was tall. Suddenly a great mound of sod began to rise slowly like yeasted bread until it tore away from its surroundings. Clods of dirt rolled off the quivering earthen sides as something heaved itself upwards. An icy calm settled over Rhys, as it always had when it was his turn in the arena.
Thanking the gods that Morgan was yet at the clinic, he took firm hold of Lucy’s halter. He had no time to see her safely to her stall. Instead he turned her away and led her as quickly as he dared into the shade of the machine shed where she couldn’t see whatever happened. Tying her lead rope to a post, he prayed for the sake of her wounds that she wouldn’t break loose and run.
He needed a weapon. Rhys eyed the tools that hung in the shed and quickly settled on a long-handled spade. He hefted the thick hardwood shaft in his hands – oak, he hoped – and approved of the pointed steel blade at one end. It was old, but heavy and solid. He would have preferred a sword, or even a Roman trident, a fascina, but in the ring as in battle, one learned to use whatever came to hand. Armed, Rhys headed out to face whatever was invading the farm.
The mound, now chest-high, had split along its base on the side facing him, like a long gaping mouth with snaggled roots for teeth. The darkness within seemed blacker than shadow ought to be on a bright afternoon – and a pair of silvery eyes flashed in the depths, many handspans apart. Rhys allowed himself a quick glance at the house, reassuring himself that no one was home, and braced to meet the unseen enemy.
A hand-like appendage reached from the darkness, the flesh pale like something long buried as it grasped at the dirt with four long thick fingers. Its owner hesitated as if testing the strength of the sun – and suddenly the moist white skin flushed a deep and mottled brown. Nostrils flared on the sides of the blunt nose that followed. The flat, arrow-shaped head was as wide as a wheelbarrow and swiftly became the color of the earth as well as it emerged from the gaping crevice. Silvery eyes the size of apples flashed in the daylight but didn’t flinch or blink.
Blind but far from harmless, thought Rhys, as the creature’s mouth opened to reveal double rows of conical teeth, some longer than a spearhead. He’d seen these monstrous salamanders before. It was a bwgan, a creature of the darker side of the faery realm. Like the faeries themselves, bwganod lived almost forever.
Unlike the fae, they relished the taste of human flesh – and the creature’s nostrils were flaring as the great head tracked his location by smell.
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BUY LINKS FOR STORM WARRIOR
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About the Author
Dani Harper is a former newspaper editor whose passion for all things supernatural led her to a second career writing paranormal fiction. A longtime resident of the Canadian north and southeastern Alaska, she recently ventured south with her husband, Ron, to rural Washington to be closer to their grown children and to live the country life (Goats and chickens and pugs, oh my!).
Dani is the author of the shapeshifter series Changeling Moon, Changeling Dream, and Changeling Dawn. She’s currently signed with Montlake Romance for two brand new series – STORM WARRIOR kicks off the Grim Series this August and FIRST BITE launches the Dark Wolf series in October of this year.
Find out more at www.daniharper.com or stop by her Facebook Fan page at https://www.facebook.com/Dani.Harper.Fan.Page
BUY LINKS FOR STORM WARRIOR
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