Naked Souls
by Kate Hill
Format(s): Ebook
Heat Level: Erotic
Pairing(s): M/F
Genre/Themes: Fantasy, Paranormal
Length: Novel
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave
Cover Art: Syneca
ISBN: 9781419925412
Purchase Links: Ellora’s Cave / All Romance Ebooks / Amazon / Barnes and Noble
Blurb:
Betrayed and imprisoned, Overlord Lysander is forced to mate with beautiful Queen Flora. Lysander has never found a woman more desirable. Resisting her is impossible, especially when manipulated by carnal magic.
Trapped in a loveless marriage, Flora has dreamed about Lysander since meeting him at the high king’s gathering. She never imaged she would one day be forced into his bed by her maniacal husband.
Damaged by an abusive past, King Typhon obsesses about two things–keeping his kingdom safe at any cost, and the innocent maid who stirs his body and soul. Love is a luxury a leader can’t afford, especially when he’s consorting with the fleshtress, a creature who thrives on mortal lust.
Compelled to love a man she can never have, Crystal longs for brooding King Typhon. She sees past his madness and into his heart, but to save the man she must destroy the king.
In a magical world at war, passion abounds as four people are stripped to their souls, but will love or lust conquer all?
The following excerpt from NAKED SOULS is for readers 18 and over.
In the high king’s great hall, surrounded by the wealthiest and most influential people in the known world, Flora felt bored and restless. Her husband, Typhon, ruler of Darridge, a kingdom on the southern tip of the continent, had sent her to this gathering in his stead. He disliked social affairs. Most likely he wanted to stay in Darridge, planning more ways to squeeze money from the common people to finance another battle with the kingdom of Aberhill.
She sympathized with those caught in Typhon’s path. All too often she had felt the sting of his wrath. Before her marriage, she hadn’t imagined hating anyone as deeply as she hated her husband. She hadn’t always despised him but over the past few months he had become unbearable.
The only good thing about this gathering was that she had at least some freedom from Typhon. He had sent guards to watch her every move, but she preferred that to looking at his face, hearing his voice and enduring his loathsome touch.
“Are you feeling well, My Lady?” asked the young woman beside her. She was the princess of…Flora couldn’t recall. She felt almost guilty about paying so little attention to most of the introductions made tonight, but she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts from drifting.
On such a beautiful spring night she wished she were outside, swimming in a moonlit lake or racing on horseback across an open field.
“Actually, I could use some air,” Flora said, offering the girl a slight smile. “Please excuse me.”
She stepped away from the corner of the room where she’d been talking to a small group of ladies. As usual, most of the men remained seated at the tables, drinking and talking amongst themselves. A select few had joined High King Nik at the stable where he had gone to inspect his new riding horse, a gift from one of the guests.
Flora glanced toward the entrance to the courtyard and noticed that guests filled the sanctuary. She sighed. It seemed she’d get no privacy tonight, short of retiring to her chamber. Then she noticed a balcony across the room. It appeared to be empty, so she headed toward it, weaving her way around other guests. Her two guards followed. She paused and spun toward them.
“Please wait here. I require privacy.”
They looked hesitant, but she stared at them with her sternest expression and they relented.
“Yes, my lady,” said one of the guards. “We’ll keep watch from here.”
Of course. What did they think she’d do? Leap off the balcony, run to the woods and live like an animal? Compared to the life she had with Typhon, that might be the better choice.
She stepped outside, walked to the carved stone railing and closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath. The aroma of flowers lingered on the air and she smiled, imagining she were alone in a field of lilacs. No responsibilities. No guards and best of all no husband.
A strange feeling swept over her, as if someone were watching her. The guards? Her eyes snapped open and she glanced around. Upon seeing a man standing at the far end of the balcony, half hidden in the shadows, she gave a little gasp of surprise. Tall and lean with broad shoulders, he had long, sinewy legs accentuated by his fitted ebony trousers and leather boots.
“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but so masculine that a shiver of passion rippled down her spine. Until this moment she believed she’d lost her ability to desire a man.
“I thought I was alone,” she said. “You surprised me.”
He stepped closer, out of the shadows and into the light of the full moon.
Fascinated and aroused by him, Flora moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. He had an angular face with sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline and a longish but well- shaped nose. His mouth made her ache with need. She wondered how those chiseled lips, the top forming a perfect little bow, would feel against hers or even better teasing her nipples?
In spite of his understated garments and rugged masculinity, he emanated good breeding. He was almost beautiful, but using such a feminine word to describe a man like this seemed insulting.
By the way he stared at her with his wide-set blue eyes, he found her just as interesting. As he stepped closer, she noticed a leather strip bound his glossy black hair at his nape. His pale skin carried a hint of gold, as if it had been kissed by the sun. That light complexion and the black inner rims of his eyes indicated Fanticaun ancestry.
Many people still practiced magic, but few displayed such obvious characteristics of that ancient race. At one time they were the most powerful race in the world and the founders of most other magical peoples. Pure Fanticauns now bordered on extinction and generally lived in seclusion.
“That’s why I came out here,” he said, turning his gaze toward the starry sky.
His blunt reply irked her and she said with a hint of sarcasm, “Excuse me for disturbing you.”
He didn’t respond but stared at her with those compelling eyes.
“I’m not much for crowds,” she said, unsure of why she felt the need to keep talking. “Gatherings like this make me feel…trapped.”
The faintest smile curved the corner of his lips. “I understand. There are places I’d rather be.”
She didn’t doubt it. In spite of his aristocratic appearance, this setting didn’t fit him. He’d look more at home riding bareback through the wilderness or worshipping the moon on a snowy mountaintop.
“That’s exactly how I feel,” she said, her voice scarcely a whisper. Sighing deeply she walked to the rail again and stared toward the silhouette of the dark woods.
“You look like a caged bird.”
His words struck a chord in her, whether due to the way he spoke them or because they were too close to the truth, she wasn’t sure. Her breath caught in her throat and she turned to him.
“Who are you, Sir?” she asked, wishing her father had given her to a man like this instead of Typhon. Though she’d just met him, something told her they were a soul match. Both preferred the stars to the great hall. Each wanted to be somewhere else. Neither seemed comfortable with the life they had been born into.
“Lysander of Aberhill.”
A feeling of dread tightened Flora’s belly. Typhon sought to conquer Aberhill. Lysander, overlord of that kingdom, defeated him at every turn.
“And you, My Lady?” he asked.
“Flora of Darridge.”
He lifted a sleek eyebrow. “Typhon’s queen?”
She nodded, her gaze locked on his.
This time the smile that touched his lips was nothing short of wicked. He approached and stood so close that she saw the fine lines around his eyes and the thickness of his lashes. He smelled like a fresh spring breeze laced with herbs. Those who practiced Fanticaun magic often carried the aroma of plants and incense. Typhon always did, but he had a bitter scent. Pungent. So unlike the crispness of Lysander.
The Overlord of Aberhill lifted a hand to her cheek. A shiver darted through her, though she couldn’t tell if it was one of fear or one of desire. It felt like the unsettling combination of both. She should move away but she didn’t want to. The warmth of his calloused hand against her soft skin aroused her. When he trailed his long, slender fingertip down her cheek and across her lips, she resisted the urge to close her eyes and sway toward him. No one had ever touched her so tenderly, least of all the man who should have.
It was completely improper for her to stand here, allowing her husband’s worst enemy to caress her like this, but she wished he’d touch her even more intimately. She wished he’d kiss her with that fascinating mouth. It struck her that to touch the wife of his enemy, he must be as arrogant as his reputation indicated.
“It seems Typhon is as lacking in the bedroom as he is on the battlefield.”
This statement forced Flora back to reality. Her teeth clenched, she knocked his hand away from her face.
“How dare you!” she demanded.
“How much would you like me to dare, lovely Flora?”
“You must be mad. Do you realize my husband’s guards are watching? A motion from me and they’ll have your hide.”
“That’s very doubtful.”
“Attacking another man’s wife isn’t something the high king will overlook.”
“If the look in your eyes is any indication, it wouldn’t be an attack but a mission of mercy.”
Enraged, Flora drew back her hand to slap his face, but he caught her wrist before the blow landed and pressed a kiss to her palm. She hated how the sensation of his lips sent little thrills of delight through her entire body.
Lysander dropped his hold on her, turned and stepped into the great hall.
Her heart pounding with conflicting emotions, Flora strode to the edge of the balcony and took a moment to calm herself. No man had ever made her feel like this and something told her that no man ever would. These brief moments were burned upon her soul. Lysander’s kiss on her palm had been more passionate and satisfying than her husband’s fucking had ever been.
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