He crossed the centuries to find her…
For months Lord
Arik has been trying to find the right combination of runes to create the
precise spell to rescue his wife, Rebeka, but the druid knight will soon
discover that reaching her four hundred years in the future is only the
beginning of his quest. He arrives in the 21st century to find her memory of
him erased, his legacy on the brink of destruction, and traces of dark magick
at every turn.
A threat has followed…
Bran, the dark
druid, is more determined than ever to get his revenge. His evil has spread
across the centuries. Arik will lose all. Time is his weapon, and he’s made
sure his plan leaves no one dear to Arik, in past or present, safe from the
destruction.
But their enemy has overlooked the strongest magick of
all…
Knight of Rapture - Excerpt
Chapter One
Visions of his warm bed and even warmer
wife lit Lord Arik’s face. A deep rich chuckle rumbled in his chest at the
vivid images of how he’d wake Rebeka.
Who would have
thought the great druid Grand Master was a besotted bridegroom? The summer had
been warm and all the sweeter with Rebeka by his side.
He stood on the
open terrace at the back of the manor, surveyed his domain and swelled with
pride. Fayne Manor was a thriving estate that had been the family home for
eleven centuries and it would stand for eleven more.
While he waited for
the sun to rise, he prepared for the ritual. He took off his linen shirt and
braced himself for the crisp September air. The morning breeze stirred sending
the red and orange leaves racing across the garden, twisting and tumbling like
rowdy children at play.
Out of the corner
of his eye he sensed a movement but nothing was there. It sobered him. The
Shade, an otherworldly thing, was an old acquaintance begging for an audience.
Like an old woman with aches and pains predicting bad weather, the Shade’s
shadow warned him of trouble. What did it bring this time? He had learned long
ago to listen to it. It was accurate, most of the time. He glanced at the manor
door. A little longer. He wanted more time to love her before he began her
training.
He placed his shirt
on the stone railing as the sky brightened. Any moment the small sliver of
golden sun would crest the rim of hill then he would ask the Great Mother to
grant his people a good day.
His nostrils
flared. The trace of a sweet pungent metallic smell sobered him. He tried to
push it aside but it remained at the edge of his mind stealing the last of his
pleasure. Lightning. The smile slid off his face. For everyone’s safety he
needed to take action—he recognized the signature.
Bran.
He cleared his mind
for the ritual and thoughts of Bran faded—for the moment.
“Hail and welcome,”
he declared to the east as fingers of sunlight stretched over the hill. His
body warmed as the tattooed runes draped across his back and chest, thrummed
and brightened. They were a sign of his station as the druid Grand Master. Each
rune strengthened his power and had been earned as he progressed in the Order
from Druid to Master to the ultimate title of Grand Master. “Thank you, Great Mother for giving us
another day, a day of peace…“
And, he murmured, for giving me Rebeka.
The lingering mist
faded with the morning sun. Like a cozy down blanket pulled from a bed, the
retreating haze revealed the thriving village and farms.
Soon the quiet
valley would come to life. Farmers would set off on their daily chores, the
villagers would open their shops, and his soldiers would take to the practice
fields. His chest swelled. Was it a sin to be proud of what he, together his
people, had accomplished? He’d do anything for them, anything to protect their hearths and homes.
He closed his eyes
for the morning blessing. “As above, so
below. As within, so—.“ He took a deep breath and caught the faint scent of
lavender and roses. The teasing fragrance announced Rebeka was near. Her
morning appearance, with his tankard of watered ale, had become part of his
ritual. “…so without,” he continued
the rite. “May guidance and love mark our
way. And bring success for our clan today. So mote it be.” He opened his
eyes.
“The day appears
promising.” Rebeka’s voice brought a smile to his lips. She tugged her shawl
closer around her shoulders. “M’lord.” Soft puffs of breath surrounded her
mouth. There was indeed a chill in the morning air. She gave him his discarded
shirt and waited while he shrugged into it before handing him his ale.
“Yes. It will be a
good day.” It was always a good day when it began with her at his side. “Almost
as good as last night.” They drove each other mad with their verbal banter and
soft touches yesterday until she surrendered to him. His reward was to tease
her until she yielded last night. Who knew who would yield today? Either way
they both won.
Her gaze slid from
his chest to his face. Her searing expression brought back the warmth of their
passionate evening. Her flushed skin was her silent response.
He returned his
gaze to the valley pretending to be interested in the smoke now rising from a
distant chimney. He turned his attention back to her.
Faith, how he loved
sparring with her.
Out of the corner
of his eye he caught her blank stare. But the challenge was given and he
understood it had been accepted. With a long pull on his ale he returned his
attention to the curling smudge in the sky and like a game of chess waited for
her to make the next move.
She rose on tip
toes and bathed his ear with her soft breath. “But not as good as tonight will
be,” she whispered. “We celebrate Samhain tonight.”
He set the tankard
on the wide stone railing before the ale sloshed over its rim.
“Happy thoughts for
the day, husband.” She laid her hand on his chest and bent to kiss his cheek.
He caught her
around her waist and brought her face to his. How he adored the passion in her
violet eyes. They asked for more. He answered with a searing kiss and teased
her mouth open with his tongue. She didn’t protest. Instead she moved closer
molding her body into his, fitting like a key in a lock. Encouraged, his tongue
swept her mouth and he reveled at the sweet taste. When he released her she
stood in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest with his cheek resting on
her hair. Quiet and content, he savored the last few moments while the sun rose
over the edge of the hill.
The sound of
footsteps from the Great Hall interrupted them. “Arik? Ah, here you are.”
Logan, his younger brother peeked out the terrace door. “Are you ready to
leave? The sun rose hours ago. I thought we’d breakfast with the men and start
maneuvers today.” Logan gave Rebeka a devilish nod. He casually filched Arik’s
forgotten tankard and took a deep swallow.
Arik observed the
bottom of the sun clear the eastern hill. “Hours?” He shook his head and let
out a snort. Threading his fingers through Rebeka’s he gave them a tender
squeeze. He had wanted more time with her. He always wanted more time with her.
But for now their game was over, at least until tonight. “Hours,” Arik muttered
while he released her then took the tankard out of Logan’s hand. “And get your
own ale. Better yet, get yourself a wife to bring it to you,” he told Logan in
feigned aggravation before he drained the tankard dry.
“Ah, but where will
I find one like Rebeka?” Another nod for his sister-in-law. Rebeka bobbed a
quick curtsey and tried not to laugh.
Find one like
Rebeka, indeed. There was no one like her, but good sense told him Logan would
find a love of his own. He earned that. A cool morning breeze stirred the
bottom of Rebeka’s thin night dress and she shivered.
“Go inside before
you catch your death,” Arik whispered in her ear. She nodded and scooted into
the house.
“Maneuvers today?”
Arik glanced at Logan and observed his pleasure turn to concern. “The winter’s
coming. We should make sure the farms are prepared, there’s enough food stored,
and the necessary repairs have been made before the snow.” He had hoped the
calm that his valiant soldiers fought to achieve in August would last longer.
“There’s still more to teach Rebeka. She’s not ready to face Bran.”
“She came through
the portal to return to you. She’s strong. We need her skills to defeat Bran.
We can’t do it without her.” Logan didn’t hide his impatience. “Yet you haven’t
taught her about Dark Magick. Instead you hide it from her. And I know why.”
Arik almost sneered at Logan. This was an old argument. Logan would have had
him start her training after their wedding night.
“You’re afraid she
won’t be able to control it, that she’ll become like Bran. Don’t you see she’s
made of stronger stuff?” Arik waved him off. He stepped away to put space
between them. But space wouldn’t help.
Who did he fool,
certainly not Logan. Arik glanced at his brother and recognized his silent
strength. The only fool here was him. He couldn’t continue with this idyllic
illusion. Logan was right. He had been delaying teaching her. He knew Dark
Magick would test her, change her. And he wanted her just the way she was.
Knight of Rapture: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo
Knight of Rapture: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo
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