Rebel's Honor(73)

Lynx's blood chilled. She wanted to ask if he was joking, but that would  show weakness. Not something she could ever admit to with Lukan.

Lukan's grin widened. "So, you can't touch me until I have sex with you,  and I won't touch you. Who's emasculated now?" He gave her a mock bow.  "I do like how the day has turned out."

Lynx opened and closed her mouth. Was it possible she had lost?

The burning in her leg, where just moments before she had felt the  pressure of his groin, said that this war was far from over. She pulled  her lips back in her most savage grin.

"Oh, Lukan. You are as good as had. Enjoy your gloating while it lasts." Lynx slunk toward him, swinging her hips provocatively.

Lukan's confident swagger faltered. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. And then he was gone, skidding out the door.

Lynx laughed after him. "Like I said, Lukan, this war has only just started."



The End





Thank you





Thank you for reading Rebel's Honor, the first book in the Crown of  Blood series. If you would like to know about new releases, giveaways,  and other cool stuff, you can sign up for my newsletter by visiting my  website. You can unsubscribe at any time. You will also find a list of  all my books there.

Warlord's Wager, the second book, is available for purchase on Amazon, or if you are a KU member, you can download it for free.

No book project is possible without tons of help, so a big thank you to  my family who walk this writing path with me daily, and my editor,  Monika Holabird. I could not have done it without you all. Finally, just  to whet your appetite, I have included the first few pages to Warlord's  Wager. Enjoy!





Warlord's Wager





The softness of Lynx's lips on his ear and her voice cut through Axel's haze of pain and poison.                       
       
           



       

"Even if he had more stocks of poison, I would have found a way to save  you. You know that, don't you?" She kissed the side of his face, a  tender contrast to the burning everywhere in his body.

He didn't doubt her claim for a second. He'd had jumped in front of that  poisoned quarrel for her knowing she'd find a way to save him.

But now his father haggled.

Axel tried to make out what Felix was saying, but his voice faded in and out of Axel's consciousness.

And his flesh burned like fire. The pain overpowered all else.

Hands picked up his bed. Roughly. Not by intention, he was sure, but the  shaking rocked his body like small earthquakes, sending wave upon wave  of pain through him. Then it stopped, and Malika's voice penetrated the  fog.

"Wait, Father. You can't let him go alone. He needs someone to watch over him."

"One of the priestesses, surely."

A man's even tone-who . . . Stefan. His best friend.

Relief flooded through him. Everything would work out if Stefan were involved.

"As emperor, I make that call, and I think it fitting that Colonel Zarot go." The cold voice jarred Axel to the core.

Axel wanted to sit straight up in that bed and shout, "No!" Stefan  needed to stay in Cian to protect Lynx. Nothing was more important than  that. But his tongue might as well have been cut out at the root.

The bed rocked. Hoisted up. More excruciating pain. Fighting to stay conscious, Axel drifted in and out of blackness.

He next awoke to the thrum of an airship's propellers.

"Malek, set a course for Tanamre in Norin. Thorn and his people are camped fifty miles east of the town." Stefan.

Flesh and bones melting like butter, Axel slumped back against his bed. At least he was in good hands.

If only he could say the same for Lynx.



* * *



Stefan Zarot grimaced at the twenty crossbows aimed at him through the  windows of the dragon-shaped wooden cabin of his airship, The Dragon's  Claw. A dirigible armed with light cannons landing unannounced outside  the Norin encampment would come as a shock to the nomadic ostrich  herders. Lost in a sea of rolling grassland, the Norin could never have  conceived of such a threat.

Still, Stefan hadn't anticipated quite so many poison-tipped quarrels aimed at his heart.

Poison-tipped.

Axel's olive skin was blue tinged and beaded with sweat, a harsh  reminder of the deadliness of murghi, the Norin poison. Stefan scratched  his three days' growth of stubble, frowned, and looked through the  bulkhead doorway dividing the cramped sleeping compartment from the  control room. Axel lay strapped to his bunk bed, not to stop him from  thrashing around, but to prevent air turbulence from rolling him off the  bed. Only his ragged breathing broke through the paralysis gripping the  rest of his body.

But even now, his rattling lungs were faltering. Axel did not have long to live.

It steeled Stefan's resolve. Crossbows or not, he had to open the hatch and face this hostile horde of raiders.

"You sure about hiding our weapons, sir?" Lieutenant Malek, the grizzled  pilot, gestured with a grubby finger to the closest of four cannons  hidden under a tarp. His dark eyes were not the only ones that flickered  to their hidden hardware.

The two other crewmen also edged closer to the arsenal.

"Not that I'm questioning a superior officer-" Malek's unspoken "but" hung heavy in the air.

Even though Stefan was a colonel, a rank earned through merit, at a mere  twenty-four years of age, Malek probably considered him too wet behind  the ears for such a contingency.

"Very sure, Lieutenant." Stefan glared first at him and then at the rest of the crew.

They stepped away from the cannons.

"We're here on a mercy mission. The Dragon's Claw is intimidating  enough. Flaunting weapons the Norin don't even know exist is not going  to help our cause."

Stefan ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. He scanned the  hard-eyed threat hanging from the guy ropes that anchored the dirigible  to the ground. Groups of Norin already clung to the guys, burning  torches gripped in their fists just inches from the dirigible's black,  red, and gold fabric covering.

Stefan was under no illusions.

Just one spark, and the wax-impregnated fabric would go up in a ball of  fiery smoke and failure. Not even the raiders hanging on the anchor  lines would survive. The Norin hated his people; they would consider the  sacrifice a small price if it also meant the death of Chenayan troops.

How are they going to react when they discover Axel is on board?

Stefan wiped the sweat off his face with a sleeve of his black uniform.

"If we knew who was in charge, sir, it would help."                       
       
           



       

It would.

Unfortunately, all raiders tended to look the same-leather-clad, with  ostrich feathers and beads braided in their long, blond hair. Unlike the  Chenayan military, none of them wore any obvious designation of rank.  Stefan rubbed the emerald embedded next to his right eye, wondering how  best to tackle this problem. Axel needed to be on the ground, in the  care of a healer, but that couldn't happen unless the Norin invited them  in.

The acrid stench of burning pitch filtering into the pod wasn't a promising welcome.

Axel gurgled in the silence, and then his breathing stopped altogether.

Before Stefan could move, a pox-scarred corporal charged into the  sleeping quarters and loosened Axel's ties. Pitted face contorted with  sorrow and worry, the corporal rolled Axel's rigid frame onto his side.  Muttering apologies, he slapped Axel's back.

Nothing happened. He pounded again, this time dislodging a plug of  blood. It trickled out of Axel's slack mouth and down his stubbled jaw.  Every man in the cabin waited for Axel's lungs to start.

After what seemed like an age-only a few seconds-Axel's chest wheezed  and then stuttered as he dragged in a breath of rancid air. But his  breathing was even slower and more erratic than it had been before his  seizure.

Only the antidote could save him now. Even then, Stefan had his doubts.  He gritted his teeth and stomped toward the hatch to open peace talks  with the Norin.

"Chenayan, open the door now, or we shoot through the glass!" someone shouted from the ground.

"Thank the Dragon! A leader I can negotiate with." Stefan spun in the direction of the voice. "Malek, did you see who spoke?"

Malek jerked a hand at the window in front of the cabin. A middle-aged  man with a sun-worn but distinguished face rimmed with feathers and  braids strode through the parting ranks of raiders. Despite being  dressed in a faded leather tunic, trousers, and scuffed boots, his regal  bearing was unmistakable.

"King Thorn." Hope soared in Stefan's breast. "Even better!"

Thorn was flanked by two bodyguards. Stefan recognized one of them as  the raw-hide lean raider who had delivered Lynx and Kestrel to Tanamre.  The other, much younger, raider had silvery blond hair and a striking  face that reminded him of Lynx. The boy's whole demeanor dared Stefan do  something out of line so he could plug him with a quarrel-no doubt  poisoned.