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Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Virtual Book Tour for Coed by James Fant
Excerpt Reveal for CONFESSIONS OF A FORMER PUCK BUNNY by Cindi Madsen
I used to be a puck
bunny, but after a hockey player broke my heart, I gave up all things hockey.
Now I’m just focused on finding a way to pass my math class so I can graduate
college.
Ryder “Ox” Maddox’s
deep, sexy voice sends fuzzy tingles through my entire body, and I’m powerless
to stop it. Which is a big problem since the hot, surprisingly funny hockey player
is my new math tutor.
I can’t stop
thinking about how ripped Ryder is from all his hockey training, and how fun
it’d be to cross lines with him.
I kissed a hockey
player and I liked it.
and fall for Ryder, and then I’ll be totally pucked.
thought turned to how strong he was. How much I’d like to see all those muscles
without a shirt in the way.
he’d counted off twenty-five, he stood and, as if he’d been reading my mind,
peeled off his shirt.
stared. Not subtly, either. Nope, totally unabashed, taking in every dip and
groove of his sweat-glistened skin.
we’re playing dirty,” he said, shooting his wadded shirt over to his bag. He
grabbed my hand. “Last machine. I’m not sure you can handle it, though.”
not sure you can handle it.” As far
as comebacks went, not my best, but I mentioned he was shirtless and crazy
ripped, right?
sat down on the leg machine, the one where the seat reclined at a forty-five-degree angle, and then he lifted the weighted bar
that rested at shin-height with his legs.
reached for my hand, and since I’d already talked trash, I took it, even though
I was starting to think I wouldn’t be
able to handle it. He pulled me toward him, and I had no choice but to run my
shins into the weights or to straddle the machine. I chose straddling, but kept
space between us like I had earlier.
heart hammered against my rib cage, beating in time with his leg lifts, the
steady clink of the weights filling the air. Ryder’s eyes remained locked on
mine, and energy crackled in the air between us. He sat up enough to run his
hands up my thighs.
dart of heat shot through my core, and my breath lodged in my throat. Ryder’s
fingertips skimmed the skin between my pants and shirt and desire danced across
my nerve endings. Still our eyes remained
fixed on each other, and I wasn’t sure I was taking in oxygen anymore.
distant part of me whispered that if I didn’t stop this…whatever we were doing,
I’d be in trouble. But fighting my attraction to him was exhausting and the
ache that’d formed between my thighs grew more persistent, drowning out silly
things like common sense.
leaned over like I had before, my hands braced on either side of him. He lifted
the weights again, and then he brushed his lips against mine. Just a quick
slide of soft lips.
throat went completely dry. I pressed my palm flat against his stomach and
slowly slid it up, feeling his firm chest and the hammering of his heart, which
echoed mine.
gripped my hips and pulled me down to sit on his lap, eradicating the space
between us. He lifted the weights with his legs a few more times, each rep
bumping me tighter to him. Friction was definitely happening, and with each
lift, it became clearer and clearer how much it was affecting him as well.
tiniest whimper escaped my lips and he raised an eyebrow that added even more
smugness to the curve of his tempting mouth.
could play dirty. So I sank farther into his lap and he groaned.
course, all it did was give me dirty thoughts and turn me on that much more.
lifted his legs two more times, the movement shaky. He slowly ran his
fingertips up my arm, across my collarbone, up my neck, and then he reached
back and tugged my hair free of its ponytail.
drove his hand into my hair, cupped the back of my head, and for one torturous
moment, time stopped, both of us suspended right there on edge of crossing
lines.
Madsen is a USA Today bestselling author of
contemporary romance and young adult novels. She sits at her computer every
chance she gets, plotting, revising, and falling in love with her characters.
Sometimes it makes her a crazy person. Without it, she’d be even crazier. She
has way too many shoes, but can always find a reason to buy a pretty new pair,
especially if they’re sparkly, colorful, or super tall. She loves music and
dancing and wishes summer lasted all year long. She lives in Colorado (where
summer is most definitely NOT all year long) with her husband and three
children.
visit her Website, where you can sign up
for her newsletter to get all the up-to-date information on her books.
Chosen Path Teaser Tuesday
Jun gave me a towel, with which I wrapped up my hair, and a yukata, one of his. Its sleeves hung well past my hands, but its hem did not drag the ground. I decided to go ahead and indulge. I’d had a difficult night. A little smear of grease on my back would do the trick. I worked as quickly as I could to remove the rest, but it still took me perhaps twenty or thirty minutes.
I emerged from the bathroom with a much-improved mood.
Jun lived in a modest flat, sparsely decorated in Japanese style: tatami flooring and rice-paper screens to separate (or not) a small bedroom from the tearoom. I liked it. He had put on a yukata as well and sat formally in the tearoom. I duly went to the first guest position and knelt.
“Do you have any citric acid?”
He blinked and asked, “Citric acid?” I had woken poor Jun from a sound sleep and it seemed he was still trying to gather his wits.
In my gentlest voice, I said, “Yes. I was unable to remove all of the grease from my skin. If I might further impose upon your hospitality, I would be grateful for your help with it. Citric acid, lemon juice if you have it, might break down the grease more readily than soap.”
He stood and walked toward his small kitchen. I turned my back to him and widened my stance to sit directly on the ground with my feet beside me, and I opened my yukata to drop it from my shoulders and expose my deliberate grease smear. Holding the yukata up with the crooks of my elbows, I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head down. His steps halted when he saw me. His voice, when he spoke, bore more confidence than his approaching footfalls.
“I would be honored to provide you with whatever counsel I can, Itsumoto-san.”
“Thank you, Jun-san,” I said, “and please call me Yumi.”
“Will you tell me of the matter?”
I inhaled to fill the hollow in my chest and kept silent, tasting enjoyment in dabs of cold lemon juice against my back, softer than raindrops. I’d have all day to tell my tale before he finished, and part of me wanted to drag it out. The better part of me wanted to rip the band-aid off and be done with it.
“I was in the subway yesterday. There was a woman next to me. She was killed by a passing train. I believe I will be charged with her murder.”
“Why would you be charged?”
Another deep breath did nothing to fill my chest. It was hard enough admitting my mistake, a mistake made in the making of another mistake. I had to tell him the unconfessed secret of my heart. In a way, sitting half-naked in front of him made it easier to let go of my pride.
“I believe she was engaged to marry a man I previously dated—a past lover. I had gone to his home yesterday hoping I could reconcile myself to him. When I got there, someone, I believe it was this woman, was there with him. I left without announcing myself. It seems she left not long after I did and intended to catch the same train as me.
“After the incident, I ran. That was foolish. I was scared, shocked, and not thinking clearly. I have not been sleeping well. I had not slept for perhaps a week. This insomnia has affected my mental state. I did not intend to kill her, but I stood to benefit from her death. There were witnesses. I paid my PASMO with a credit card. The police will be able to determine who I am.”
Jun’s hands on my back remained timid, but his voice reassured. “Your situation may not be so dire as you believe it, Yumiko-san, but I can understand how it troubles you.”
The room filled with silence until I deemed it thick enough to call attention to my next statement.
“Jun,” I said, “when a woman takes off her clothes and kneels before you, it’s safe to assume you can drop the honorific.”
“I never assume facts not in evidence.”
I sighed and gave instructions. “I want you to call me Yumi. I want you to press hard against the stain on my back and scrub until I am clean.”
He did as I told him, taking my shoulder in one hand to steady me and grinding into the grease with his other. Sooner than I might have liked, a smear of cold water slid up my back, and the collar of my yukata patted me dry. I gave him further instructions.
“I also want you to fuck my brains out.”
His hands snapped back.
I waited him out, wandering my gaze along the weave of his tatami floor. Eventually he spoke.
“Will you not be needing them?”
I liked the innocence of his question, so I answered earnestly. “They have functioned poorly in recent times.” I waited again to hear his next quandary.
“I would think it a difficult thing to do to a woman of your considerable intellect.”
“Take your time.”
I waited while he tried to think through what was happening, seemingly as disturbed by his own unanticipated circumstances as I had been by mine the night before. Clammy fingertips, followed by their palm, touched down high on my back and slid haltingly up my shoulder and alongside my neck. I tilted my head up, yielding to the almost imperceptible push of his index finger under my jaw. He followed, and I continued until I craned my neck back as far as it would go.
When his fingertips drew gently against my throat, I went with them instead of letting them drag against my skin. I kept leaning, transferring my weight onto my toes, which pointed back along the floor by my sides.
Flipping over my toes to set my weight on my spine and straighten my knees from that position is always an awkward move. Jun was unprepared for how suddenly I fell backward when my weight transferred, but he caught me with a hand behind my neck before my head hit the floor. That was just as well because his abrupt catch knocked the towel free from my hair and just in time because I held my back still fully arched and would have driven my head hard into the mat.
I’d left my hands in my lap, straightening my elbows as he bent me backward, leaving my torso bare in front of him. My yukata, folded inward over my thighs, provided only a pretense of modesty. His eyes struggled not to wander while I stared up at him, so I closed mine to let his have their way. I’d told him to take his time, so I parted my lips and waited.
“Did you do it?”
My eyelids rocked open. “You ask your clients if they’re guilty?”
“I’m asking you.”
I closed my eyes again and rolled my spine downward, relaxing my back to the floor. “Nice dodge.”
“Likewise,” he volleyed. “Shall we play again?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then answer my question.”
His hand behind my neck firmed and steadied and was soon joined by his other hand to cradle my head. Jun had no idea how to handle a woman, but he knew exactly what to do with a hostile witness.
I had to tell him, and he knew it. I was the one asking him for help. He could simply decline and be rid of me. Something inside him clamped down and turned to stone. He was awake now, and our little back-and-forth spanned the full width of his patience. It takes a hard man to set murderers free every day and still look at himself in the mirror.
I drew a slow breath to show him I would answer. I needed a hard man. I was a murderer.
A mathematician by training and computer programmer by trade, J. Whitney Williams lives and works under the X in Texas, thinking too much and speaking too little.
27 Revelations by Harlow Hayes blitz
27 Revelations
Harlow Hayes
Publication date: April 11th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary
Mara Goodwin is a professional keeper of secrets, or that is what she intends to be. As a counseling psychology student at Northwestern, Mara’s ambition is unrivaled. She has the grades, the compassion, and the dedication, everything she needs to gain entry into the clinical psychology program.
However, after a traumatic experience leaves Mara in a state of mental distress, she finds herself keeping more secrets than she intended, most of them her own. Finding herself in trouble with the law, her dreams of being a therapist are jeopardized and as a consequence, Mara is ultimately forced into group therapy. While in therapy, Mara holds on to her secrets with a death grip, but when life comes full circle, her past is revealed and with it the potential to destroy her future career, her friendships, and ultimately herself.
Mara is a fighter, even if she doesn’t know it yet, but with each attempt to salvage what she can of her broken life, she is met with a consistent punch to the gut. After being pushed to the edge by meddling roommates, a persistent ex-boyfriend, and a potential new boyfriend, Mara comes to the precipice of her destruction. Yet with her destruction also comes her rebirth, and revelations of love, pain, and growth.
—
EXCERPT:
“Have a seat, Mara,” she said. She directed me to an empty chair across from her desk.
The chair next to it was occupied by a firm-looking man with a serious demeanor. Dr. Bradley moved with grace across the room to her desk. She was a small woman, and when standing, I towered over her a good six inches. She had to be in her late forties, but she looked younger. She had a gentle appearance to her face, and her blonde hair cascaded softly onto her shoulders. She dressed like I used to. In heels, nice fitted skirts, and blouses varying in color from pastels to rich reds and blues. She was nothing like the other professors, who seemed to be permanently glued to their khaki pants.
I took my seat, and the man in the chair leaned back and assessed me as if he was taking inventory. I want to punch his gut for looking so hard. He wore some gray dress pants, tennis shoes, and a powder-blue polo with a badge dangling from his neck that had a number and read Probation Officer. In his lap was a manila envelope that read MARA J. GOODWIN.
“Shall we get started, then?” Dr. Bradley spoke as she adjusted herself in her seat. “Mara, this is Officer Chad Lowe.”
I reached out to shake his hand and the roughness of it made me cringe inside. They were calloused, and pieces of dry skin were flaking away.
Dr. Bradley started to speak again so I glided back into my chair, subtly rubbing the hand he had shook on my skirts to remove any skin remnants.
“He is the probation officer that the courts have assigned you. We were meeting before you arrived to discuss whether or not you will be graduating with us and continuing your education here after the events that transpired in April.”
I tilted my head down in shame like a five-year-old being told to go to the corner.
Dr. Bradley continued. “Because I am familiar with you and the circumstances regarding the medical and legal troubles that you have had this semester, I have taken it upon myself to work with you and Officer Lowe to determine whether or not you, me, and the courts can work towards a solution that allows you to finish the counseling psychology program with us and move forward as you had planned.”
I was overcome with joy. The most I had had in a very long time. They were going let me finish my degree, even after what I had done. I was certain that the decision was made out of pity and not mercy, but I didn’t care. My body became giddy with excitement.
“However, Mara, I do believe the first question that needs to be answered is whether or not you want to finish this program.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I’ve worked for this my entire life. I’m not a quitter. I want to finish, I do.”
“All right,” Dr. Bradley said as she sat up in her chair with delight. “That settles that, but there are a few things that we need to discuss before we proceed. First, Mara, you need to understand that you are the exception and not the rule. We do not condone violence in any form, and most students would have been removed immediately. Physical assault on a classmate, or anyone, for that matter, is not and never will be tolerated in this program or academic institution. However, the circumstances regarding your attack on Erin and Jason played an important role in our decision and the decision of the courts.”
I nodded my head in agreement.
“In order for you finish this program and secure your future position in the clinical psychology program you will need to agree to a few terms and conditions.”
“Absolutely. Anything,” I said.
“Officer Lowe will explain in more detail next week when you meet at his office because we are short on time today, but you will need to abide by the rules of your probation as it is set by the courts. Also, you will need to make up the clinical hours that you missed this past semester this summer and fall in order to graduate on time to be eligible to start classes second semester. Officer Lowe, is there anything else you would like to add?”
I looked over at him, sitting in the chair, fingering the pen in his hand.
“Ms. Goodwin, as Dr. Bradley has stated, I am your assigned probation officer. She has spoken highly of you and has informed me that you are tenacious, gritty, and dedicated to your studies. I trust that you will do what is necessary for you to remain a student here.” He opened the manila folder. “According to her and other character witnesses, you are a model student and your records show that you have had no previous encounters with the law, no priors and such.” He closed the envelope. “So I am hoping that you will continue being a model student and citizen. Make the right choices and things will be easy.”
“You will be required to meet with me once every two weeks to discuss your academic progress,” Dr. Bradley said.
“And according to the judge,” said Officer Lowe, “you will also be required to complete three hundred hours of community service, but the judge was lenient and arranged for your clinical hours to count towards this. You’re a lucky girl, Ms. Goodwin, very lucky.” And as the word lucky left his mouth, my smile turned to a frown. Lucky is not what I would describe the unfortunate event that got me in this mess in the first place. Dr. Bradley knew what he said struck a nerve.
“Lucky, huh?” I said as I stared at him. I could feel the hardness in my face.
“Thank you so much, Officer Lowe,” Dr. Bradley said hastily as she reached out to shake his hand. “I know Mara will be on top of things.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, still hearing the tension in my voice as he stood to leave.
“Thank the judge,” Lowe said. “I’ll see you in my office next week.” He walked toward the door and grabbed the door knob but paused before he opened it. “And Ms. Goodwin, there is one more thing.”
I turned in the chair so I could see him.
“You must also attend a weekly support group.”
The sweats were back. This time with a vengeance.
“Yes, Mara, I almost forgot,” Dr. Bradley said. “Dr. Moore has started a therapy group for some of the clients she’s been working with, she believes that having you there would be a nice addition.”
Group therapy? I was going to kill Dr. Moore.
“I will be in contact with Dr. Moore to make sure that you are meeting the conditions of your probation. Good luck.” He walked out and shut the door behind him.
I was glad he was gone. I needed to speak to Dr. Bradley alone.
“Dr. Bradley, I like Dr. Moore and I am glad you recommended her to me, but I don’t think I can—”
“Mara, she wouldn’t want you there if you couldn’t handle it. It’s all a part of getting you better, and now it’s part of the deal so…” She threw her hands up in defeat.
I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t say anything. That was the deal. Not doing it wasn’t worth putting my education on the line. Finishing this master’s and ultimately my Ph.D. had been my dream for the past seven years. Besides, I had accumulated too much student loan debt, so I needed that Ph.D. salary coming out. I stood up and made my way to the door and Dr. Bradley followed.
“Thanks again,” I said, dazed as the storm cloud seized my mind again.
She patted me on my back. “You need to heal.”
I knew she was just trying to help, but I didn’t want to hear that soppy crap. I had to go to group and share with strangers. Just more mess inserted in my life against my will. My own knowledge and seeing Dr. Moore once a week was fine. I didn’t need a third intervention. I could take care of myself. Just me in my own little corner, minding my mind, minding my own business. I didn’t need anybody.
Author Bio:
I have loved writing ever since I was a young child in school and after years of procrastination I finally decided to go for it and write my first novel. When I'm not writing or reading I love spending time with my puppy, listening to music, and binge watching shows on Netflix.
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Chaos Unbound by Brian S. Leon
September 2011
Thirty-five miles offshore in the Pacific Ocean, and I’m dodging freakin’
selkies in my fishing boat. It’s like they’re seagulls, and I’m dropping French
fries at the beach. Man do they screw up the fishing. Worse, when they appear,
bad things tend to follow. And it’s just my luck. Of all fae to show up
randomly, it had to be these shapeshifters—the kind that could transform into
seals and even into sea lions, which scare the crap out of the fish. Every pile
of floating kelp we’d fished around so far had one of these fairies under it.
Every kelp except the paddy right in front of the boat.
look! Another seal,” the woman said, reaching for her camera.
made it a perfect five for five.
but hang my head. My clients—a simple Midwestern family of Mom, Dad, and
Teenage Son—considered it endearing to see a seal poke its head up from inside
the kelp, but I could see their true bulbous heads, seaweed-like hair, and
pudgy gray-green humanoid forms. Their giant, shiny-black eyes fixed on me as
if they knew exactly who I was.
shapeshifters were part of the Unseelie Court—fairies that are decidedly
unfriendly to humans—and the fact that we kept encountering them was starting
to unnerve me. Encountering one in the Pacific was rare. In fact, I couldn’t
recall one off Southern California since an entire tribe of them showed up
around Catalina Island in the 1980s. That appearance had led to a spate of
unidentified submerged object and alien sightings, not to mention a few
mysterious plane crashes around the island and a heap of sunken boats.
big fin?” the father asked, pointing at the rapidly approaching triangular
object sticking out of the water and heading straight at the paddy from the
opposite side.
with a sudden smile. “Damn big one, too. Great white, from the looks of it.
Rare for us down here in San Diego.”
Swim!” the mom said as all hell broke loose around the paddy.
the kid said. “It’s like a real National Geographic moment.” He whipped out his
phone to video the event.
one on the boat rooting for the shark. If they’d known what that shark was
really chasing, they probably would have thought it was more like a National
Enquirer moment.
selkie-shark conflict would ruin the fishing within a mile of that paddy, I
pushed farther out, always on the lookout for signs of life other than selkies.
As long as we could avoid them, we found lots of small football-sized yellowfin
tuna while we trolled, and I’d even managed to convince the anglers to release
the little guys, in hopes of finding bigger ones. The small fish kept me
blissfully busy until we made it back to the dock at around four in the
afternoon—so busy, in fact, that I forgot about how screwy the presence of
selkies was until I realized my buddy Ned was storming down the dock toward my
boat as I pulled in.
was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt with colors usually reserved for Las Vegas
neon. The fact that he resembled a derelict version of Santa Claus usually drew
people’s attention. It was either that or the fact that he always smelled like
beer-soaked seaweed washed up on a beach. It could be worse given that Ned was
in fact the Titan God of the Sea, Nereus, in self-imposed exile.
boat to the dock, my cellphone, stashed inside my captain’s bag within the
console, chirped the unique ring my buddy Geek had helped me assign to Sarah
Wright. I felt guilty for avoiding her over the past two weeks. Despite
scrambling to reach the annoying device before the call went to voice mail, I
wasn’t quick enough. I tossed the phone on the console, thoroughly disgusted
with my wishy-washy-ness regarding our relationship—or whatever we had. I was
pretty sure we both wanted to take things to the next level, but I was
conflicted about what that would mean for both of us since my situation wasn’t
exactly normal.
back as soon as I can. I sighed, watching my three clients stumble off the
boat, trying to adjust to sea legs on land after a full day on the water. They
chatted excitedly about sharks and sea lions as they went. Ned stood down the
dock, waiting, staring intently at me with his hands on his hips and one
flip-flop-clad foot tapping away. The trio barely managed to get past him
before he charged the boat.
glad to see you made it back okay.” Ned’s shoulders dropped a bit as he exhaled
heavily. “Now get yer ass off the damn boat and back onto land.” He dipped his
head slightly and glared over his sunglasses at me, his brow deeply furrowed.
rods out of the rod racks under the gunwales and stared back at him. Something
had him on edge, and that was saying something. Normally, he made people on
Prozac appear edgy. In over a thousand years, I’d never seen him like this
before.
Now!” he said, raising his voice and gesticulating wildly.
seagulls and pelicans gathered around the boat awaiting leftover bait and fish
carcasses took off in a sudden deafening and chaotic commotion.
Ned. What’s got your panties in a bunch?” I said, getting back to my after-charter
chores. “Sheesh. Besides, I think the dad left a few beers if you want them.”
first question to me would have involved the possible presence of abandoned
beer. Instead, he fixed me with a withering stare. His hands were back on his
hips, and his foot again tapped on the dock. When we’d first met a few thousand
years before, he’d naturally emanated an aura of power. Though he’d since
willingly given up most of his other-dimensional essence, the preternatural
blue glow was now visible.
part of ‘now’ ain’t you understandin’?” He spoke through a clenched jaw and
pointed at the dock forcefully, like a parent demanding a child’s immediate
presence. Over his sunglasses, his eyes darted everywhere, keeping watch around
us.
said, eyeing my fish-slimed gear and all the sardine scales and scuff marks
marring the deck. “Who’s gonna clean all this up? You know if I let it sit,
it’ll be even harder to clean later.”
of it,” Ned replied. “Just get yer ass off the water. Right. Now.”
at my rods like a petulant child. “Let me get my damn gear bag, and I’ll
leave.”
captain’s bag and stormed down the dock in a huff, glaring at Ned. I didn’t
even bother to take off my grungy gray rubber fishing bibs. He avoided making
eye contact as I passed him, which only pissed me off more. Instead, his eyes
continued to dart around the marina. Whatever.
truck, threw my gear bag in the bed, then stripped off the rubber bibs. While
hopping around on one leg like an idiot, trying to get the bibs off over my
deck boots, I worked myself up from a huff to a tizzy. Who the hell did he
think he was ordering me around like that? Athena? Throwing my bibs into the
bed with the rest, I glanced over my shoulder, toward the dock.
about to get into my truck, a more pressing question hit me: Why? Ned actually
yelled at me. In over two millennia, I had never even witnessed him raise his
voice. What’d I do to him?
like I owed him an apology, without even knowing what I’d done. I headed back
down to the dock.
the top of the gangway, Ned was in a heated discussion with something in the
water on the other side of the dock from my boat. I couldn’t get a clear view
of who or what Ned was talking with, or hear what was being said. The only
things evident were the loud and freakish sea lion-like barks and Ned’s wild
and very uncharacteristic gesticulations. Instinctively, I searched for
something to use as a weapon—a boat hook was leaning against the fence next to
the gate down to the dock.
putty-colored round female head covered in thick yellow-green hair popped up
just above the dock and peered directly at me. Ned noticed me, as well, and all
at once, the creature disappeared below the water’s surface creating a wake
that tossed the floating dock and rocked the boats tied up nearby. She was
definitely one of the selkies I had encountered earlier offshore.
in my tracks. Ned shook his head and stomped toward me, which couldn’t have
been easy in flip-flops. His eyes were ablaze—literally. His awakened aura
pulsed from white to blue like a lightning storm.
raised my eyebrows as his gaze fell on me. The temperature began to drop, and
the water around the dock changed from a drab green to black and turned rough,
as if it were about to boil. The disturbance bounced the moored boats against
their bumpers and the dock, and the rigging on the sailboats began to clang.
Even the remaining birds evacuated—only noiselessly.
you piss off this time?” he said at me more than to me in a voice that
reverberated through my skull. It wasn’t loud, but it was insistent in its
tone.
what?” I asked, vapor trailing from my mouth in the cool air.
recall having done anything to anybody since chasing down that witch, Medea, a
few months back, and as far as I knew, everyone I could have pissed off doing
that was dead.
the ramp from the dock toward me, somehow appearing larger than normal. His
face, especially his eyes, darkened. “Don’t play games with me. You got selkies
chasin’ yer ass all over the Pacific, and they had to travel around the world
to get here to do it. Nytrocyon herself is here to find you.” He pointed back
down toward my boat. “She says Mab wants you. Says you killed Lord Indronivay.”
ruler of the selkies? Seriously?” My teeth started to chatter, and my jaw
muscles clenched in the frigid air. “Wait… she said I killed who? Lord
Indronivay, Mab’s warmaster? Are you kidding me? Why the hell would I have
killed that uptight belligerent asshole?”
met him, but his reputation as a jerk was legendary. Even as a Guardian and
protector of humanity, I knew him only through stories that suggested he was a
giant at nearly eight feet tall and was about as friendly as a shark with a
toothache. All I really knew about him was that he personally ran every major
war and military campaign Queen Mab of the Unseelie Court had waged for tens of
thousands of years. Hell, the guy might have charged into battle against Queen
Titania of the Seelie Court on the back of a triceratops.
Nytrocyon is lying?” Ned’s voice boomed through my head, shaking me back to
attention.
again. “Now why the hell would I do something like that? Honestly?”
dropped slightly, and his pulsing aura faded. Though his face brightened and
his bushy beard and mustache split, revealing his white teeth in a broad smile,
the rest of him remained rigid. “Good. I didn’t think you were dumb enough to
attack a member of one of the fairy royal courts. That’d be grounds for war.
Only problem is then, dude”—he slowly slipped back into his normal relaxed and
carefree persona—“you gotta ask yerself one question: why does she think you
did?”