|Thea Harrison (photo via www.theaharrison.com)|
Go visit her website, stop by on her Facebook page, say hi via Twitter — Just get to know this chick because she’s awesome. Oh and besides LORD’S FALL (coming out in November 2012), Thea’s got an all-new dark, romantic paranormal series that stars…me! Heh. Totally kidding. But the main character’s name *is* Mary. She’s so gonna kick ass, take names, and get the hot, Alpha guy.
Back to Thea and HUNTER’S SEASON, her newest novella that releases today (Woot!). Welcome, Thea!
~THEA HARRISON ON HUNTER’S SEASON~
One of the things I enjoyed the most about writing the Elder Races novellas for Samhain is that they gave me a chance to go deeper into this world I created, and to flesh out more details. With four full length novels out, and now my fourth novella HUNTER’S SEASON released, it feels like each story gets richer with the kind of world building that I’ve had the opportunity to do over multiple projects.
This felt especially true as I wrote DEVIL’S GATE (Samhain #3 novella, June 5th), and HUNTER’S SEASON (Samhain #4 novella, September 18th). Although I didn’t make much of it in the novella itself, I was very aware of the intended release date, and how—in my mind, at least—the theme of a harvest underlay everything about the story.
Across the room, doors had been propped open to the sunny morning. They led to the terrace that looked out over the Queen’s private walled garden. Hearing male voices outside, she walked over to the doors and looked out.The Wyr lord sat at table, chatting easily with another tall figure of a man who was, by weight of his office alone, imposing in his own right. Chancellor Aubrey Riordan was one of the triad that formed the Dark Fae government, along with the Queen and the Commander of the Dark Fae army, Fafnir Orin. The Chancellor lounged in his chair facing the morning sun as he cradled a steaming cup of tea.There was absolutely no question of Riordan’s pure Dark Fae blood. He had strong, intelligent patrician features and light gray eyes that shone like clear water in sunlight. His long raven hair was bound back in a simple queue and gleamed blue black in the bright light, his pointed ears elegantly shaped.In contrast to his hair, his pale skin was ivory pale. While he did not have the Wyr lord’s outsized physique, his long lean frame was muscled with graceful power. His eyes were narrowed in the sunlight, which revealed crow’s feet at their corners, and a few strands of white hair gleamed at his temples. Riordan was not a young Fae, but a male in his full maturity of Power.As she saw him, a sweet pain like a stiletto coated in honey slipped between Xanthe’s ribs and pierced her heart. It was the same pain she always felt whenever she saw him. Like a silly child with her toys, for years she had gathered the snippets she heard about his life and hoarded them close.Servants always knew the truth about their masters’ true nature. What all the servants said about Riordan was that he was kind and even tempered. He never expressed frustration with a blow or a harsh word. One of the most powerful men in Adriyel, he held onto that power lightly and used it with care. For someone like Xanthe, who had rarely known kindness, he sounded as foreign and exotic as the Wyr lord who now kept him company.
Xanthe was busy unpacking two more large canvas bags. She looked at each package, container or jar interestedly, muttering to herself as she set the items on the table, which was already piled high with fresh fruits and vegetables.
He opened his mouth to ask for her help but then hesitated. Instead, obeying again some nameless impulse, he tilted his head and watched her work. She had a quiet, peaceful demeanor, and she looked comfortable, at home with her own company. For the first time, he realized that she wasn’t dressed in a palace black uniform, but instead wore a soft looking, somewhat worn tunic and trousers. Her hair was braided, but not as tightly as usual, and the dark length shone with auburn highlights in the slice of sunlight that fell across her back and shoulders.His gaze lingered on the gentle curve of her cheek then dropped to the swell of her breasts, where he had rested his head earlier. Her hips were slight and trim but definitely feminine. She was not as tall as he, but her legs were lean and long.
The thing of it was, he couldn’t remember a time before when he was ever this attracted to a woman. No doubt it had happened; he had lived a very long time, after all.But that would have been a younger self in another time. A less tried, greener self.It wasn’t here and now, where he embodied the totality of all of his experiences.When the beauty of the spirit had come to mean so much more to him than the beauty of the body.Where he knew a multitude of sorrows and reasons to be wary, and yet he still felt this slow burning, excruciating build-up of need.Naida had caused him a vicious hurt precisely because he had loved her, but he had never felt anything for her that was remotely like what he was coming to feel for Xanthe. He and Naida had gone through a considered courtship, discussed together the advantages of a partnership together and had come to a mutual agreement. Everything had been very much in character, laid out, predictable.At the time he thought it had been so very civilized, their relationship solidly grounded in friendship. Really, nothing could compare to the shock of a civilized man who came face to face with his own barbarity.
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