First book in the Daryk World Trilogy
Erotic Fantasy Romance
July 14, 2010
Published by and available from Ellora's Cave
When Magonian archaeologist Ketera Aldrancos' father is imprisoned, she's determined to save him. Before she can do so, her ship is wrecked. Water laps at her, a man's strong arms surround her. His husky voice soothes her. Then she realizes she's on a foreign beach in the arms of a dreaded Dragonian. A man who looks nothing like the men she's known. His closeness, his touch sends shockwaves of need through Ketera's deepest core and shame runs through her. After all, passions are sinful.
Dane Charger, a Dragonian Daryk One, cradles the Magonian woman in his arms. He aches to introduce her to the headiest lovemaking imaginable. His eyes flame red and a growl vibrates his throat, conscious that he'll need to protect her from marauding slave traders led by a vicious rogue who just happens to also be his half brother.
Two people whose supercontinents are separated by ocean and two thousand years of prejudice and fear. Two people who may be the secret to saving a race from extinction...
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"Lots going on in this well written tale.Very romantic at times, at others hot enough to steam glasses, this is the first story in what appears to be a trilogy that will reveal more about these strange lands and people as they strive to reunite what ignorance has torn apart."
~ Night Owl Reviews -
"Denise Agnew's humanization of not only Ketera, but Dane as well, really
helps to suck you into the story, letting you feel the emotions as you
follow them on their adventures. I enjoyed reading this book, and anyone who likes love stories in the age of dragons and swords will enjoy this book as well."
~ RomFan Reviews
Her father's execution was scheduled. Soon he would be murdered.
Ketera Aldrancos gasped as she came to full consciousness and reality returned, heartless and sharp.
Icy water lapped at her toes and her body ached with a dull throb. The rushing whisper of the ocean filled her ears and lulled her backward into the darkness as it threatened to return her to blessed oblivion. Rain delicately touched her skin and wind ruffled across her body in a gentle caress. For a moment she almost relented and opened her eyes to see why the elements coaxed her so sweetly.
But clear, relentless rage rushed in to choke her.
Father.
Everything she loved would perish if she couldn't-
She sobbed and then heard a rustling, a deep voice. She didn't understand the language at first-a strange, guttural spilling of vowels. Seconds later someone dropped onto the sand near her. A deep voice rumbled, husky and soothing. "Who are you, sprite?"
Ah, the language was clearer now. Odd. The pronunciation different, the accent peculiar, but still her language.
A Dragonian. The enemy.
A warm touch glided over the pulse at her neck. She wanted to move, to fight, but her entire body throbbed. She couldn't move. The man grunted. Then with strong but gentle hands hauled her upward into his arms. His thighs beneath her buttocks felt rock-hard, his arms powerful enough to shelter her from the ocean and weather.
"Wake," the man said, his voice rough with command. "You breathe, therefore you live. Come on now, that's it. Another deep breath. Don't fade on me."
She obeyed, hearing the relentless, almost angry demand in his tone. "Where-?" she rasped the word, her throat sore, her voice raw. She coughed and choked.
"Easy. You're safe. Here. Drink."
A container with cool liquid touched her lips and she drank with greed, her thirst tremendous and her throat aching for relief. Water, all around her rushing. She remembered the terrible tempest that had swallowed her ship.
"Slowly." His tone was harsh. "You'll take ill."
She sipped until he drew back the container. "More."
"No. Open your eyes."
She sighed, the sound resentful to her own ears. "No. I..."
By the god, she ached to the bone with fatigue. The gruff man caressed her hair. His big hand wandered down over her upper arm then skimmed her legs with impersonal attention. With a hot jolt, one piercing thought came back to her.
Father. I must save him.
It took three tries, but her eyelids peeled open.
Her gaze landed on the man holding her. And her breath stopped. He watched her with a strange feral intent. A thick tousle of dark auburn hair cascaded around his broad shoulders. Thick, dark lashes framed eyes as green as a tyrant stone from a mine in Opali. A few days' growth of red and gold stubble darkened his handsome jawline. His nose was bold, but not obnoxiously so, and his mouth hardened in heavy concern. His long, impressively carved arms were bare, but he wore a strange, hard metal chest plate over his torso. She couldn't see his legs.
"There," he said. "What is your name?"
She glanced past his shoulder and saw the ship mast towering upward not far in the distance. Its torn sails flapped in a persistent wind.
She blinked as her vision fogged. She reached up to rub her eyes. "My name?"
His arms tightened. "What are you called?"
Her head throbbed if she thought too hard. "Ketera Aldrancos."
She sucked in a pained breath. Her ribs ached.
"Easy. You're ill and hurt. I'll take you back to the castle."
A word launched through his lips she'd never heard before, but it sounded like a curse. He eased her onto her back. He stood and withdrew a huge knife from its sheath.
Terror gripped her heart with a sharp talon. He meant to kill her.
Oh god Magon.
She closed her eyes as weakness eased like liquid into her limbs. She felt almost as if she sank into the sand, her body heavy. Heavier. She opened her eyes, desperate to meet her enemy head-on and show him she wasn't afraid. If she would die, then she'd face her executioner by looking him in the eye. He turned away from her.
She made an effort to move and found her protesting muscles cooperated. She stifled a deep groan of pain as she struggled to sit up and succeeded. Determination pushed her to rally. She wouldn't die when her father needed her.
From the back her rescuer stood tall and broad-shouldered. His arms coiled with muscle, a long knife gripped tight in his right hand. Across from him an equally tall, powerfully built man with spiky, short blond hair stood at the ready, an animal spring-loaded and eager to pounce. His ugly face was distinguished by a lightning bolt blue tattoo zigzagging across his right cheek.
"The spoils can be shared by all." The lightning-bolt man sneered. "By Draconus there are plenty of riches to go around, including the woman." "You're right." The man who stood near her shifted on his feet. "It's a shipwreck, but the spoils go to no one. Especially not this woman."
"Are you saying you're claimin' her as your own?" Lightning Bolt asked.
"I'm claiming her." The man who'd stood over her walked away toward the other man.
Where was her knife? She looked around for her shoulder pack but didn't see it anywhere. More than anger stirred inside her. Panic rose up to choke her. She couldn't lose the pack. Her father's life depended on her keeping the documents within safe.
"What if I say I'll take her from you?" the other man asked.
"I'm a Daryk One. If you think you can take anything from me, you are mistaken."