Excerpt:“Who are you to disturb me?” she snarled. “What lies have you told to enter this place?”
The man offered a low sweeping bow, elegant with no hint of fear. “I’m Lukas, King of the Northern Lands. It is my son who is the next to attempt to breach your thorns.”
Morgannia laughed, a low wicked sound. “Then I suggest you plan his funeral.”
Lukas walked forward, clearly not intimated by her threats. She laughed again and said, “Or perhaps he is a son you don’t wish in your kingdom.”
Angry now, his eyes narrowed. “The Prince will be the next king in my lands, make no mistake. And he will possess the beauty and riches purported to be locked away in that cursed castle.”
Intrigued, she studied the king before her. By rights, he should be cowering, begging for his son’s life. Several had done as much before, only to share the same fate as their foolish sons who attempted to rescue the sleeping beauty.
“You’re a bold man,” she allowed, eyeing his crown, “perhaps you truly are a king.” But then she dismissed him with a flick of her hand. “You’ve sent your son on a fool’s journey, one that will result in his death.”
Something in Lukas’s face relaxed and he offered a slow, erotic smile. Suddenly wary, Morgannia braced herself. She was positive this mere mortal could not harm her magickally, and yet the way he looked at her, the way he opposed her, her sparked through her veins.
A warning? Or was this…desire?
No comments:
Post a Comment