Lover in StoneA Darkest Kynd Novel, Book 1
by MFRW Author S.C. Dane
To the world they are the Grotesques—hideous chimeras and gargoyles of stone. But before they are locked in their granite prisons, they are Kynd—magnificent beings condemned to prowl the nightmares of every realm.
Their tortures will doom them to stone.
The love of a Chosen One could save them.
Hell hath no fury like a woman who wants her man...
AMAZON Buy Link!
REVIEWS
5.0 out of 5 starsShe's done it again...
By Redwood Treasures on September 10, 2016
Format: Paperback
...left me waiting for more!! When do they come out on Audio? Then I can ""read"" and ride and not have to wait until I get home to keep reading!
S C Dane has done it again!
By Gem Davis on July 30, 2016
Format: Kindle Edition
S C Dane has done it again! [She] had me into the world she created by the end of the first chapter and sadden by the last page of the book, knowing I’d have to wait for the next book to read what she has planned other Kynds.
EXCERPT: Chapter One
The pose didn’t suit her. Although far be it from Angelia Delacroix to notice she formed the perfect imitation of a long-legged grasshopper. Not when her attention was riveted to the skin-bound book spread open in front of her.
She felt like the member of the bomb squad holding the wire snips: her breath locked in her lungs. And not because the pages of the book were fragile, either. Given its age, the darn thing had defied the ravages of time.
What worried her, and kept her from breathing, was the aura of magic surrounding the thing.
The relic sitting in front of her was volatile as a real bomb. All it would take would be one wrong move, one offensive stumble from her, and the book could do anything.
So, she couldn’t screw up.
As it was, the only reason she sat in the same room with the ancient tome was because she was the only being it allowed to read its pages.
Like the Scriptum had an inkling of its own.
Which made it one scary so and so.
Because, let’s face it, she wasn’t anyone special. Not in this world of faery, vampires, shifters, and ghouls.
And Grotesques.
She would never forget to add the gargoyles and chimerae to her list of supernatural wonders. When she was younger, she used to fantasize about them, spending countless nights conjuring tales of derring-do for her Grotesque heroes.
Which was fine when you were a little kid. Playing make-believe was as normal as snot dripping from your nose. Even as a teenager, she could be excused when she’d gripped tight to her fascination, practically wallpapering her bedroom with pictures of chimerae.
Except she never outgrew her fascination.
Which made her a loser on all counts. She was a mere human, living in a realm populated by creatures with innate talents that left her wanting.
And feeling pathetically inadequate.
Ugh. Yeah. She’d polish that nugget of loveliness later. Right then, she was preoccupied with sliding her silver reading blade along the pages she was translating. She had come to the running end of an unfinished sentence about her favorite subject: gargoyles and chimerae.
So to her, the Scriptum read like a New York Times best-selling novel: a real page-turner. Hastening to devour more, she flicked the blade to roll the page. Only to slice her finger on the vellum—even though she’d been using her knife.
“Ooh, crap!”She jabbed her bleeding finger into her mouth, her eyes dancing like frantic maids to find something, anything, to dab the blood off the ancient page.
“Oh, God, oh God, how could I be so stupid?” Mortified, she jumped to her feet, tipping her stool so it clattered to the floor behind her.
The droplet of blood spread in a widening circle into the page. Like an atomic cloud.
And just as flipping devastating.
She’d marred the ancient Scriptum. With her stupid human ineptitude, she’d scarred a relic which had remained in near pristine condition for centuries.
Stumbling back, she couldn’t peel her helpless stare from her blunder.
Fear snatched her breath as droplets of sweat stung her armpits and prickled the small of her back. Aro, her vampire boss, would be…enraged.
See? Pathetic. Aro would never lay a fang on her. Not when her father was Vampyre, one of the ruling Triumvirate.
Okay, so he wasn’t her real father. But she’d been raised since infancy as Anton’s own, and it was no secret to the vampire realm. Inept human she might be, but Angelia moved freely within her father’s world.
No vampire in their right mind dared touch her.
Including Aro.
Right. Taking a deep breath to calm her panic, she bent to put her stool back onto its three feet. Then bolted upright, her hand clutched to her heart like a clichéd heroine wrapped tight in her corset and long skirts.
ABOUT S.C. Dane
S.C. Dane currently lives in Wyoming on a working cattle ranch. When she’s not riding horses on the range, she’s immersed in her second passion: writing. She loves traveling, too, and isn’t sure what adventures her next move will find for her.
facebook | pinterest | blog | website
SEEKING REVIEWERS
If interested in reviewing, contact the author directly.
No comments:
Post a Comment