Storm’s Convergence by Valerie Storm #YAFantasy


Storm’s Convergence
Demon Storm 
Book 5
Valerie Storm

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher: Shadow Spark Publishing
Date of Publication: 2/13/24
Cover Artist: @Ginkahederling
ASIN: B0CRYQJRN1
Number of pages: 313
Word Count: 78962

Tagline: The Fire Witch ruined Kari’s life once before
                Now she’s back
                And she’s not alone

Book Description: 

The calm can only last so long.

Now a member of Freehaven’s Council, Kari tries to put her past behind her and settle down in her new home with her ever-present Lord and love, Ari.

Cracks in her mind, parting gifts from the heart eater, make planning the upcoming Spring Festival a struggle, but Kari is determined to do her best, even after Guine departs the town.

When a mysterious child appears at the festival and marks Kari, all semblance of normalcy is banished.

A triple threat from her past awaits beyond the walls of Freehaven and options are thin. Not willing to spill any more blood, Kari takes it upon herself to stop them—with Ari by her side.


Excerpt:

The girl grabbed the neckline of her shirt and jerked her closer with too much ease. Kari stiffened as the girl’s cheek touched hers.

“Funny wolf demon, hiding in this wretched town.” Her voice was low and cruelly amused. Kari tensed, prepared to jerk free and throw a fist, but the girl hissed, “Ah, no, don’t move. There are many innocents here, though I would not call demons innocent. I know you would not want them hurt.”

She suddenly realized the closeness of so many villagers, as if she’d been ripped out of reality and dropped harshly back into it again.

Kari bit back a growl. “Who are you?”

She knew, though, before the small girl laughed. The boastful yet righteous arrogance of someone who believed truly and wholly in her cause—it could be no one else.

“I feel your defeat. You’ve answered your own question.”

Kari’s throat was dry. “Ri…Riniko. What are you doing here? Why—”

“Since you’ve yet to heed our warning, I’m here to play a little game.”

“Kari!” Ari called.

Riniko’s small hands tightened. “Tell him to leave. We’re busy.”

She hesitated. Ari yelled for her again, and now she envisioned him pushing through the crowds, looking for where she’d gone.

“It’s fine,” she yelled back. “I…I’m helping someone. I’ll catch up!”

Riniko’s grip didn’t loosen. “Your boy is insistent.”

Kari turned her head with some difficulty, given Riniko’s grip. The little witch traded, wrapping her arms around Kari’s neck with a giggle that cracked against her eardrums.

Visible between passersby, Ari made his way to them. His brows raised at the sight of the girl around her neck.

“Who is…”

Kari smiled, big and wide, and prayed he didn’t notice her trembling lips. “She’s lost. I’m part of the Council, so she came to me. Go back to Rathik and Essie, I’ll catch up.”

Ari saw something in her face; his eyes constricted, his jaw pulsing, uncertain of what to do.
Please walk away, Ari. It’ll be okay this time. I promise.

When she did not say anything more, he relented. “Alright. Meet us over there, okay?”

Kari nodded, jostling Riniko. Ari glanced between them, then jogged off.

Riniko giggled again, quieter this time. “Good.”

Kari grabbed her around the waist and yanked her off. There was something insanely surreal about holding a small child in her hands, a child whose eyes burned with unmatched cruelty and fire.

“What do you want?” she snarled.

Riniko wrapped too-small fingers around Kari’s wrists and met her eye with a cool, even gaze.

“You know what we want. I’m only here to set the fire of action a little higher for you.”
Her palms, pressed against Kari’s skin, warmed. Kari’s eyes widened, and she struggled with the instinct to fling the small child away.

“We do not want to burn this entire village to the ground. Despite the way these villagers associate with demons, they are still good, innocent people. The demons can be excused as long as they remain thusly. But you cannot. You must come and face your fate.”

Her arms were burning; Kari bit back a scream. “I keep telling you, I don’t want to hurt anyone! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Tell that to those poor people in the east. They probably thought you didn’t want to kill them. But now they’re very, very dead.”

Kari staggered back. There were fewer villagers out now, less to see this odd pair, but Kari dreaded what Riniko would do if even one was drawn to them. She inched away from the square, edging toward an alley between two buildings.

“Isn’t it enough that I died once? What more can you want?”

Riniko laughed. “Oh, yes, but Zina got cold feet. Superstition, I guess. She couldn’t let it die with you. No, she believed it would go on, despite having no body. So here you are, her little pet wolf demon, but she won’t be here to save you a second time.”

Cold feet? Let it die with her?

The burning on her arms increased, snapping her attention back to Riniko’s young-girl face.
“I’ll come to you,” Kari croaked. “Does that make you happy? I’ll leave and find you.”

Riniko’s eyes lit up, though she did not remove her hands. The heat continued to rise until Kari thought she could smell her flesh cooking.

“Oh, do you promise?” Riniko asked, her voice girlish, sickeningly sweet. “Pretty please?”

“Please stop,” Kari whispered between her teeth.

Little hands lifted, releasing her from the agony of fire. Kari trembled, then froze as those hands touched her cheeks.

“It was easy to infiltrate this place, Kari. It would be even easier, now, to set it all ablaze. You remember my previous work.”

Kari’s hands around Riniko’s waist shook with the effort to not squeeze her into pieces. “You’re the monster, witch,” she snarled.

“It takes a monster to slay one,” Riniko responded. “Remember that if you decide to hesitate any longer. I’m tired of waiting for this final show. My sisters have both seen that I was right and now it’s time to end this.” Riniko raised her hands. “Put me down.”

Shaking profusely, Kari set Riniko on the ground, where the little witch-girl brushed off her plain, brown dress. She fluffed her hair, then raised a finger to her lips.

“Remember your promise,” she said, then spun and skipped away into the darkness.



About the Author:

Valerie Storm was raised in Tucson, Arizona. Growing up, she fell in love with everything fantasy. When she wasn’t playing video games, she was writing. By age ten, she began to write her own stories as a way to escape reality. When these stories became a full-length series, she considered the path to sharing with other children & children-at/heart looking for a place to call home.












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A Sword of Blood and Roses by Jessica Ash


A Sword of Blood and Roses
Hunted by the Faerie Queen 
Book One
Jessica Ash

Genre: Dark Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication:  June 30, 2022
ISBN: 9798201496227 
ASIN: B0B1XQTX28 
Number of pages: 322
Word Count: 85,000
Cover Artist: Firda Graphic

Tagline: When the Queen of the Fae is after you, sometimes your best bet is falling in love with the enemy.

Book Description:

Enemies to Lovers Dark Fantasy Romance…

He was supposed to kill me…Now I’m his prisoner.

I was supposed to hate him…Now I’m falling in love.

But neither love nor magic can save me. And Now time is running out.

When the Queen of the Fae is after you sometimes your best bet is falling in love with the enemy, even when he’s your kidnapper…

Read all five books in Kindle Unlimited. Discover enemies to lovers romance like you’ve never read before.


Excerpt:

Riding into the dry-as-bones mountains on the back of the puca, Logan’s anger seared bitter in his chest. It rolled off him in waves, pulling thunder down from the sky. He toyed idly with the storm letting his anger draw the danger of the lightning to him as he seethed.
Fifteen years away from his hounds. Fifteen years of Solanum’s running wild, the puca causing havoc wherever he went. Fifteen years of Logan’s life eaten away in the hole of the queen’s dungeons.

And now he was to kill witches for the queen—a fact that rubbed him raw.

Humans were amusing companions, why create trouble? Irritated with the brief flare of morality, he smothered it with brutal force. It didn’t fucking matter what he wanted. It never had.
Lightning cracked. The eerily silent hounds of the Dark Hunt tightened around him, their tense glances and snapping teeth reflections of his flaring emotions.

He had no room for second thoughts tonight. The Black Queen had given him no reason why she needed these witches killed, but if he satisfied her it might give him his freedom. At the very least it would give him some space. Maybe some time to figure out a way to stay out of the dungeons. And time to figure out how to truly extricate himself from her bloody dominion.

Because no matter what she had promised him, he knew, there was no way she would simply let him go. Not after the way he had betrayed her.

Solanum tossed his head and bucked. “Quit squeezing my ribs.” Lurid green faery flames leapt from his hooves, igniting short-lived cold fires in the dry Wyoming brush.

“Cease, horse,” Logan said, squeezing his legs a little more. Punching Solanum’s buttons felt good, really good. Just like his wrath at the queen felt good. Justified.

The puca tossed his long mane into Logan’s eyes. “Lay off, or you’ll be eating dirt,” he snarled, nostrils flaring red in the dimming light.

Solanum’s irritation put a hard smile on Logan’s lips. He tightened his legs and drove the puca harder down the hill through the brewing storm.

A hound pushed in too close. Solanum’s hoof lashed out, connecting with a solid thud. The hound’s yipe sounded inside Logan’s head as he regained his balance, cursing the hound’s behavior and the puca’s intolerance.

He was back. The hounds would get used to him again. And Solanum too.

Thunder crashed in the sky, following him down into the shadowed hills as he approached the witches’ lair. Nostrils burning from the ozone, nerves tingling, he distracted himself with the dark moist wind, manipulating it to blow through the dry autumn brush like a child’s tantrum.

He laughed, the spiteful wind stealing away the dark sound as cracks of thunder echoed off the mountains. He let the anger simmer and the lightning moved further away. He wasn’t free yet, and he wasn’t suicidal. What he was, was trapped. And it pissed him off, the frustration riding him like a hag.

What could he do when the queen changed her mind and refused to release him from her service? What if the bitch thought she could use him then put him back into her dungeons Underhill, calling him to her side like a lapdog? He needed a way to show her there would be repercussions. He needed leverage.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. They tipped over the edge of the valley in search of the witch. A wavering glow of candles shone above the last few rocks.

Almost there.

The telltale traces of a spell raised the hair on the back of his neck. He extended his Gift to perceive what he couldn’t yet see. A labyrinth set by a single inexperienced witch. His lips twitched. As protection it might have worked, had the Faery Queen sent her regular henchman. Unluckily for the witch, the queen had unleashed him. The Dark Huntsman.

He would kill the wench, and be done with this thing between himself and the queen of the Tuatha De Danann. And when the queen refused to release him? He’d deal with that when the time came.

The wind carried the hot dry smell of sage mixed with the smell of fear and musky female. He inhaled the raw flavor of the witch, the taste of her fear and anger and power, slid down his throat, easing his rage.
The anxious hounds shifted around him, sensing the proximity of their prey. Solanum rounded the rock.

And there she was.

The sight of her rocked him back like a blow, almost knocking him to the ground. And he realized—despite the stasis, fifteen years had been too long a time to be without a woman.

Glimmers of power limned her naked body and the silver blade of the athame that gleamed between her breasts. Her legs were spread slightly apart, tensed for battle. Long black hair crackled and lifted with static. Her expressive face was poised on the edge of dilemma, her body caught between the need to hold the spell and the need for action.

He paused to let the feel of power and woman roll through him.

Beautiful.

Unexpected.

Green, almond-shaped eyes widened. Her stance firmed, her shoulders pulled back, and her full breasts rose, nipples tightened with cold or fear. Something wild and raw he hadn’t felt in a hundred years stabbed low in his gut.

His agenda changed.

The queen wanted to kill the witch. Why? His plan of placating the queen suddenly seemed weak. She’d never let him go without leverage, and here was leverage standing naked and lovely before him. He had a new plan.

Screw the queen.

 

***

Thunder boomed.

Trina glanced up the valley. The dying light made it impossible for her to see much more than the silhouette of a horse and rider barreling through the boulders and uneven terrain, tearing down the rocky hillside at an impossible speed. But no barrel racer would endanger their mount careening down the mountain in a thunderstorm. Or ride a horse the color of the absence of light with freakish red eyes. Only something truly inhuman would light up her inner sight with that particular eerie blue glow.

The acid in her stomach rose into her throat.

An elven lord.

Oh fuck! I’m screwed.

She swallowed the fear down. Her trap, her best effort, all her hard work. Dumb. Stupid.

Pathetic. None of it would hold an elven lord—a full adult fae whose power would make her trap look like an art project. She wished she could hide the evidence, like a small child wiping up the crumbs of stolen cookies.

Horse and rider skidded and slowed in a shower of ricocheting rocks. The enormous red  hounds flowed out, surrounding the labyrinth as the cloaked rider and his dark mount advanced.

She held still, athame at the ready in sweaty hands, prepared to bolt if she had the chance. Her eyes flicked from the approaching rider, distracted by the lesser threat of the huge, sharp-toothed,  yellow-eyed hounds encircling the labyrinth like silent sharks waiting for the command to take their prey.

Her.

“Damn shame to kill you, witch.” His voice was smooth, well-aged whiskey with a hint of brogue.

 “Then don’t.”

“What will you give me instead? A life requires a powerful exchange. And I was sent for your death.”

Trina tried to keep her face even and not reveal her panic. She had nothing he could want.

Anything of true power that a fae like this one might consider valuable, was safely out of reach and driving down the road in the van. Gone. Along with any reinforcements.

“How about honesty?” She offered in desperation.

“Funny girl.” The dark presence leaned forward, his impatient mount’s feet shifting on the gravel.

The nervous sweat on her back grew cold.

“Although I would enjoy taking the time,” his voice carried easily over the wind and thunder, “we shouldn’t stand here bargaining. The queen awaits my report.”

The lord’s level tone distracted her and she was unprepared when the horse moved. The pair crashed effortlessly into the labyrinth, cutting a destroying swath across the short, brushy sage and heading for her at the center. Spectacular violent explosions burst into cascades of colored lights, as if her carefully constructed wards were merely firecrackers, instead of huge magical grenades.

The overwhelming smell of crushed sage rose, and she swore the evil-eyed horse laughed. She reached inside for what was left of her power, losing her grip on it when he leaned over and grabbed her arm. With no apparent effort, he hoisted her up.
She scrabbled for a handhold in an effort to not fly over the horse into the waiting sea of teeth and dogs. She tangled one hand in the long black mane and held tight to her slippery knife with the other.

Strong arms wrapped in leather tightened around her, forcing her upright, her toes dangling sidesaddle. Everything happening too fast. She barely had a grip in the long black mane when the creature flexed under her and they flew over the candles.

The flames blew out.

They landed on the other side of the labyrinth in a hard jolt. She slipped.

If I fall, I could run.

Before the thought had been and gone, her grip on the mane loosened. She slid to the side. Hot breath and the scrape of teeth on her ankle warned her, just in time. She yanked her foot out of range of the snapping jaws, and lost her balance. Making an instinctive grab for the mane with her right hand—she dropped the knife.

Her kidnapper growled and tightened his grip on her stomach.

She gasped for her voice. “Put me down!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I either kill you or take you with me.” The sparkling black blade of his laughter cut deep into her soul.

Accelerating faster and faster, they wove in and out of the treacherous rocks in a mad, blurring rush up the side of the valley. If she fell off now and hit a rock, she’d be roadkill. She anchored both hands firmly in the mane and leaned back into the solid chest of her attacker.

They raced on, licks of green fire lighting up the hill behind them. A deep maw of black within purple mist formed ahead, transforming the familiar landscape into a horror. The knowledge of where they headed slammed inside her brain.

Trina’s heart sped into a sharp staccato.

Words of denial formed in her constricted throat, gone long before she had a chance to know what they were.

Don’t make me go.

They rocketed to the top of the valley, the piranha hounds schooling tightly around them as they raced to the looming mouth of the portal. Steely muscles bunched and flexed under her.

Launching into the air, they flew into the mix of fog and darkness encased in the sound of her scream.


About the Author:

Jessica Ash loves dragons, magic, and romance, and is lucky enough to write about all three while consuming boatloads of chocolate. Her favorite fantasy is taking a luxury cruise up the Rhine where she could stare at the castles along the water and dream of faery. She writes dark fae fantasy romance where evil queens are on the hunt and strong heroes and heroines fall in love.



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Aestrangel the Fallen by Maria DeVivo


Aestrangel the Fallen 
The Aestrangel Trinity 
Part 1
Maria DeVivo

Genre: Dark Urban Fantasy
Publisher: 4 Horsemen Publications
Date of Publication: September 2023
ISBN: 1644509261
Number of pages: 240
Word Count: 63K

Tagline: Hell hath no fury like an angel scorned!

Book Description: 

Aestra, favorite teenaged angel of The Lord, has been sent to Earth to ensure that high school senior, Jake Parker, pursues the correct path. He is teetering between two options that may seem innocuous, but only one will lead him to positively impact the lives of millions of humans.

But what happens when the heart chooses love over responsibility? For Aestra, one fateful night will set into motion a chain of events unforeseen by even her infallible Creator.

Excerpt

From Chapter One: Learning the Ways

They tell me I should be dreaming by now, that the images and scenarios should be well-embedded into my brand-new subconsciousness, but for me, all there has been is color. No. That’s not right. When I close my brand-new eyes, all that consumes me are the shifting shades of grays and blacks, and I’m not sure if this is something I should be worried about or not. I’ve been in this human simulation environment for quite some time now, and I’m guessing that part of my “humanness” hasn’t kicked in yet. But I’ve heard the others talking and describing their dreams, and I’m getting anxious for my first one. Revalia, the closest thing I have to what humans call a “best friend,” has told me the fabulous tales of her dreams. She says sometimes she doesn’t even want to wake up. She says the images and sounds and smells are so overpowering, so overwhelming, that when she wakes up, she desperately longs to go back to that dreamy, lazy place between the conscious and unconscious mind. I wish I knew what she was talking about.

I know my lack of dreams worries Camael. He has told me many times the human experience is multi-pronged and multi-faceted, and in order for me to complete my calling, I must be immersed in the most basic of human functions. There’s no other way for me to complete my mission because there’s no other way for me to be a “believable” Guardian to the human I am assigned. And if I don’t complete my mission successfully, I will never move up the ranks and become a Guardian Angel. Camael is in a higher order of angels than I am—the Dominions. He’s my mentor, and it’s his job to prepare me for the journey that I’m about to embark upon.

Yes, I’m an angel—we all are: Camael, Revalia, the others, and me. But, my rank right now is that of angel—the lowest rung on the ladder. My goal is to move up to Guardian, and hopefully beyond. It’s the natural progression for my kind, and I’m excited to serve the Creator (or God, as the humans refer to Him) and all of His glorious wonders.

There is no time—not the way humans divide time up at least. I’ve always existed, yet there are others and elders who were here in Ilarium before I was created, and since I’ve been given the ability to communicate in human language, it seems hard for me to put into words all the thoughts and feelings that I had before. Before, there was just love and peace and a willingness to serve and please, but now there is an actual lexicon, a vocabulary of tens of thousands of words, that I’m still trying to figure out how to effectively communicate and verbalize what’s in my heart. Never having had a heart before, it takes some getting used to.
We angels who are preparing for our callings have been thrust into a human-like world in order to become accustomed to the actual life of a human. The Powers That Be have replicated the physical world and have created buildings and structures for us, given us languages, infused us with feelings, and given us body shapes all in preparation for our descent to Earth.

While angels are neither male nor female, I have the body of a woman now, and I will be assigned female attributes from here forward. I rather do like the contour of the female form, I always have, and perhaps my partiality towards women is what prompted the Creator to put me in a woman’s body. My wings are more defined too; they are heavy on my shoulders with the feathered tips almost irritating the backs of my arms and legs. As the human notion of time becomes more ingrained into our routine, the weight of my wings becomes more and more cumbersome. Camael has said that the awareness of our wings was important so when we lose them on our descent, the shock wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t know; I’m still trying to understand all my teachings. Like how we’re going to be given a set of human memories specific to us and our assignment, yet have all the knowledge of our angelic lives. The thought of blending the two perplexes me.

This leads me to right now. This time. This place. The unfamiliarity of it all. Camael says this is a school, and the human I am assigned to help goes to one. I know this. I’ve seen them, the humans. I’ve watched them from up high, but actually being in a school—the four white walls and chairs called desks filed in rows with children sitting at them—is quite an adjustment. I sit in the front of a single aisle. We’re in alphabetical order, and I’m Aestra, so that means I’m first in the row. Revalia is a few desks behind me. I turn my head to try to catch her attention, but she’s staring out the window, deep in what Camael calls a “daydream.” I look at her a few seconds longer hoping my gaze can break her trance, but she’s too far gone, mesmerized in her human thoughts. The one disadvantage to being in this human shape is we angels can no longer feel the thoughts and emotions of others without speaking them. If I had been free from this woman body, I would have been able to read Revalia’s mind, but then again, if we weren’t in these human forms, Revalia wouldn’t be having such thoughts as hypnotizing daydreams…


About the Author: 

Maria is the Author of the Amazon bestselling and award-winning series The Coal Elf Chronicles, the YA psychological horror series The Altered Experience, and the NA Urban Fantasy series The Aestrangel Trinity. When not writing about dark fantasy and horror, she teaches Language Arts and Journalism to middle school students in Florida. A lover of all things dark and demented, she takes pleasure in warping the comfort factor in her readers’ minds. Just when you think you’ve reached a safe space in her stories, she snaps you back into her twisted reality.