Myia, a shaman-in-training, wants desperately to protect her peaceful village from the barbaric Highland invaders. To hone her powers of prophetic visions and healing, the village elders send Myia on a quest to heal the Highland leader's heart and stop a brewing war. Myia's mended many souls before, so this should be an effortless duty . . . until she meets the gorgeous, stubborn Highland warlord.
Kedric, a gladiator who escaped enslavement, only wants to liberate the villagers from their common foe-a race that breeds humans for blood sport and genetic experiments. Fueled by his rage, Kedric is determined to take down the brutal enemy. So when a raven-haired beauty with a body made for sin tries to sabotage his mission, Kedric wants her gone. Yet no woman's touch has ever left Kedric more annoyed . . . and aroused. Kedric knows he should shun her soothing embrace-but he can't seem to stay away. As their passion grows, Kedric must decide between fighting his war or surrendering his rage-and his heart-for Myia's love.
Kedric, a gladiator who escaped enslavement, only wants to liberate the villagers from their common foe-a race that breeds humans for blood sport and genetic experiments. Fueled by his rage, Kedric is determined to take down the brutal enemy. So when a raven-haired beauty with a body made for sin tries to sabotage his mission, Kedric wants her gone. Yet no woman's touch has ever left Kedric more annoyed . . . and aroused. Kedric knows he should shun her soothing embrace-but he can't seem to stay away. As their passion grows, Kedric must decide between fighting his war or surrendering his rage-and his heart-for Myia's love.
EXCEPT
"What manner of trickery is this?"
"Get off of me, barbarian." Name-calling? Really? Had her father taught her nothing?
"Barbarian? That’s funny coming from a savage."
She gasped. "Savage? You’re the one on top of me."
"As I recall, I wouldn’t be on top of you if I hadn’t needed to protect myself from your tricks."
"I am a spiritual healer. I only wanted to repair your soul. You must release my people."
"They’re free to go at any time. They choose to stay."
His weight was crushing her, making breathing difficult, but she refused to let him see her discomfort. If she could calm herself enough, her spirit could reenter his, and she could try healing him again. This might be the only chance she got before he…What would he do to her?
She didn’t sense anything evil, vile, or malicious. Murder wasn’t present in his aura. The only thing she perceived was arousal. Typical male. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage.
There were three occasions when a person’s spirit was the most vulnerable: during sleep, during illness, and during sex—so she’d been told.
"You’ve invaded our peaceful village and took our people against their will. Forgive me for not believing you." Her words were angrier than she wanted them to be. What happened to her shamanic training?
"Seems we have a lot in common, you and I."
"We have nothing in common, barbarian."
"Did you not invade my body against my will?"
"To heal your spirit."
"So you say, savage."
Would he stop calling her that? She was not a fierce, violent person. She was tranquil and at peace with the universe, dammit.
Well, at least she strove for peace.
"However," he continued, "you needn’t concern yourself. My spirit requires no healing."
"So say you. But our spirits have met, and yours told me it hid a deep wound. Let me back in. Let me into your body to heal you."
His smirk surprised her. What could he possibly find so humorous?
"If anyone enters another’s body, it will be me." His warm lips pressed against hers. As if to prove his point, his tongue coaxed hers to open for him.
She’d been kissed before, but not from a man so dangerous and commanding, or so good at it.
Well, she wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to do what she came here for, especially since nothing in his aura indicated malicious intent. His spirit simply sought to demonstrate his male dominance in a kiss. Nothing more. Ha. He’d learn who the dominant one was when she connected with his spirit again.
She opened her mouth and kissed him back. His pause indicated surprise. He’d obviously expected her to resist. When she didn’t let up, his jaw relaxed and his kiss deepened. She couldn’t deny the freedom her soul felt.
But she’d come to heal his heart, and as much as she would like to give in to the pleasure she was receiving, she needed to heal him first.
Again retreating to that tranquil place in her mind, her spirit gathered energy and flowed from her body into his. Her spirit didn’t get further than the impenetrable stone wall before it was thrown from his body again.
His lips were off hers, the weight of his body disappeared. The influx of warm night air came as a relief.
"Savage," he boomed. "Stay out of my body."
"If you enter my body, barbarian, rest assured I will enter yours."
About the author:
"Get off of me, barbarian." Name-calling? Really? Had her father taught her nothing?
"Barbarian? That’s funny coming from a savage."
She gasped. "Savage? You’re the one on top of me."
"As I recall, I wouldn’t be on top of you if I hadn’t needed to protect myself from your tricks."
"I am a spiritual healer. I only wanted to repair your soul. You must release my people."
"They’re free to go at any time. They choose to stay."
His weight was crushing her, making breathing difficult, but she refused to let him see her discomfort. If she could calm herself enough, her spirit could reenter his, and she could try healing him again. This might be the only chance she got before he…What would he do to her?
She didn’t sense anything evil, vile, or malicious. Murder wasn’t present in his aura. The only thing she perceived was arousal. Typical male. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage.
There were three occasions when a person’s spirit was the most vulnerable: during sleep, during illness, and during sex—so she’d been told.
"You’ve invaded our peaceful village and took our people against their will. Forgive me for not believing you." Her words were angrier than she wanted them to be. What happened to her shamanic training?
"Seems we have a lot in common, you and I."
"We have nothing in common, barbarian."
"Did you not invade my body against my will?"
"To heal your spirit."
"So you say, savage."
Would he stop calling her that? She was not a fierce, violent person. She was tranquil and at peace with the universe, dammit.
Well, at least she strove for peace.
"However," he continued, "you needn’t concern yourself. My spirit requires no healing."
"So say you. But our spirits have met, and yours told me it hid a deep wound. Let me back in. Let me into your body to heal you."
His smirk surprised her. What could he possibly find so humorous?
"If anyone enters another’s body, it will be me." His warm lips pressed against hers. As if to prove his point, his tongue coaxed hers to open for him.
She’d been kissed before, but not from a man so dangerous and commanding, or so good at it.
Well, she wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to do what she came here for, especially since nothing in his aura indicated malicious intent. His spirit simply sought to demonstrate his male dominance in a kiss. Nothing more. Ha. He’d learn who the dominant one was when she connected with his spirit again.
She opened her mouth and kissed him back. His pause indicated surprise. He’d obviously expected her to resist. When she didn’t let up, his jaw relaxed and his kiss deepened. She couldn’t deny the freedom her soul felt.
But she’d come to heal his heart, and as much as she would like to give in to the pleasure she was receiving, she needed to heal him first.
Again retreating to that tranquil place in her mind, her spirit gathered energy and flowed from her body into his. Her spirit didn’t get further than the impenetrable stone wall before it was thrown from his body again.
His lips were off hers, the weight of his body disappeared. The influx of warm night air came as a relief.
"Savage," he boomed. "Stay out of my body."
"If you enter my body, barbarian, rest assured I will enter yours."
About the author:
K.M. Fawcett was a born romantic. At six years old, she would beg her parents to take her a restaurant with "soft music and candles" where she could drink Shirley Temples and twirl on the dance floor. As she grew, her desire to be whisked into a romantic adventure by a knight in shining armor also grew to the point of annoying her friends and family. When she received A Knight In Shining Armor (a novel by Jude Deveraux) on her eighteenth birthday, she fell head over heals in love...with the romance genre. K.M. now writes paranormal romances and enjoys stories filled with adventure and strong, kick butt heroes and heroines. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and the Liberty States Fiction Writers. K.M. is a Nidan (2nd degree black belt) in Isshinryu Karate and co-owns and operates the Tenchi (Heaven and Earth) Isshinryu Karate Dojo with her husband in Lebanon, NJ. She is also a certified women's self-defense instructor with the FLAG (Fight Like a Girl) Program. When not working on her novels, blogging about martial arts and writing action, or working out at the dojo, she is home with her children.
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