Rhys MacDonald is pissed. Owning and managing Velvet Haven
has lost its challenge. The bar caters to many forms of
being and, more importantly, sits smack dab on top of the
portal to Annwyn. Even sharing mind-blowing sex with any
female that piques his interest is palling. Needing to
engage sexually on an almost daily basis is more than a
pleasure, it is a duty. His guardian since birth is Keir, a
Shadow Wraith who gains his sustenance through the energy
exuded by passion, and Keir's only route to dinner is
through Rhys.
What Rhys wants more than anything is to go through the
portal and discover what has been drawing Keir from his
side, and perhaps to seek the woman who has been haunting
his dreams. He is, after all the part-Sidhe nephew of Bran,
the Sidhe king. The passage to Annwyn is as much his
birthright as the bar, and Bran's banning is not enough to
keep him from it.
Bronwnn, Goddess of sexuality and fertility, is handmaiden
to Cailleach, the Supreme Goddess and the most powerful
being in Annwyn. Her visions are of use to her goddess, but
Bronwnn does not share everything. The dreams and visions of
a handsome man who consumes her with lust she keeps to
herself. She knows he will have a part to play in the coming
Dark Times. The powers in Annwyn are shifting, the time of
the Goddess is waning and the King is in ascendance.
Bronnwnn knows life as they know it must change, or all will
be destroyed.
MISTS OF VELVET is book two in the Immortals of
Annwyn series and does a great job answering some of the
questions raised in Velvet Haven last year while
upping the ante danger-wise. Sophie Renwick has a facile and
vivid imagination and succeeds in weaving a strong and vital
plot while giving us plenty of the erotic thrills we have
come to expect from her other series.
Hidden from mortals, Annwyn, the Otherworld, is home to
shapeshifters, wraiths and dragons. Rhys MacDonald, the
mortal great-grandson of a banished prince races to Annwyn
to offer help when his ancient homeland is threatened by a
dangerous Dark Magick.
There he encounters a young goddess and shapeshifter, who
thinks he is the mate foreseen in her dreams. Bound
together by the flames of desire, they discover that
destiny-and the Dark Magick- has other plans for them...
Excerpt
Crawling away from the alcove, Rhys followed the winding
body of the snake. Its white zig zag stripe made him
dizzy, but he focused on it, because it was the only thing
he could see clearly in the muted light.
At the stairs, Rhys began to climb. He was bleeding and
winded and he needed to stop but he didn’t dare. The Mage
would be finished soon. The sounds of the woman were
growing more frantic, her orgasm coming quickly.
With one small burst of energy and sheer bullheadedness,
Rhys got up and ran as fast as he could into the lit
passageway. He wasn’t steady and he was horribly
disoriented, but he followed the slithering adder.
He was bouncing off the stone walls, stumbling and
uncoordinated. But he kept up the pace and actually tried
to run faster when he heard a male cry of satisfaction,
followed by a shrill scream from the woman. Shit. He was
killing her, and then he’d be looking for Rhys and would
discover him gone.
They rounded a corner, and the hall weaved up and down,
making Rhys want to puke. He couldn’t go any further. He
stopped and leaned against the wall, his heart racing, his
burning body finding some small measure of relief against
the cool stone.
A roar of fury reached his ears and Rhys got his ass
moving. Stumbling forward, he tried to stay focused on the
snake. The pounding of feet behind him spurred him on, and
just when he thought he couldn’t do it, he saw the
shimmering gold veil. Lunging forward, he went through the
gossamer curtain just as he felt the Mage’s presence
behind him.
He was all but catapulted through the veil and came to
land on the ground. The mage’s roar of outrage
reverberated around him, and Rhys stood unsteadily. It was
dark, and he was in some of kind of forest on a dirt path.
He had no idea where he was, other than in Annwyn.
The reflecting pool should be to his left. But there
wasn’t a path. Naked and barefoot, Rhys began to push
through the dense forest. Daegan had forced him to
memorize how to get to the sacred waters, and Rhys was
moving in the direction of his instinct.
The damn reflecting pool had better be close, he thought,
because if he had to go much further, he’d pass out, and
Cailleach would have free rein to fry his ass.
Faltering over an exposed tree root, Rhys cursed and fell
to his knees. With his hands in the dirt, he anchored
himself, trying to get a grip on the dizziness that
slammed into him.
Something cool brushed his knuckles, and he gazed down
into the beady eyes of the adder.
This was the third time he’d sighted the snake. There was
no denying now that this was an animal guide. But why an
adder?
A twig snapped, and he jumped up, crouching to avoid the
low hanging branches. The adder snaked in and out of the
long grass, rising and falling over grassy mounds and
trees roots until the trees parted and Rhys was welcomed
by the glow of the biggest full moon he had ever seen. It
was made all the more brilliant by the rippling water
beneath it.
The Reflecting Pool.
On its bank, Rhys fell to his knees, collapsing in
exhaustion and pain. His head was still cloudy and heavy.
Between his cheek and gum, he felt the round pod that had
been shoved into his mouth. He was about to spit it out
when he heard a sound behind him. Glancing over his
shoulder, he saw the most beautiful wolf peering out from
between the trees. The animal was pure white, majestic and
elegant. It didn’t move, but its pale blue eyes watched
him warily.
His vision began to swirl and he reached out, whether to
try to fend off the impending attack or to call to the
animal, Rhys could not have said. But when he pitched
forward toward the ground, he saw the animal stiffen. It
sniffed the air, and Rhys knew it smelled his blood.
His last thought was that he needn’t have worried about
Cailleach because the wolves were obviously going to get
him first.
* * *
Bronwnn had seen this man before. Despite being in wolf
form, she saw with the eyes of a woman. This was the man
from her dreams. Everything about him felt familiar, from
the outline of his prone body to the breadth of his naked
shoulders. Even his scent, which was much more potent to
her in her shifter form, caused a familiar heating in her
body.
Inhaling, she brought his essence deep into her nose and
felt the primal instinct of an animal finding her mate.
Quietly, she came out from beneath the leafy canopy of
trees. The glowing moon shone on the rippling water, but
she had no need of moonlight. For she was a wolf now, and
wolves saw through the darkest woods, and into the darkest
hearts.
Circling him, she studied the hurried, rasping movement of
his chest. He was breathing too fast. Beneath him, pools
of darkness began to seep out, covering the leaves in a
glistening crimson. He was bleeding.
In this form, she could do nothing but lie down beside him
and keep him warm. But that would not save him. She had to
help him, but to change out in the open, where anyone
might see, was too dangerous. She was the only goddess
shifter. No one knew of her gift, and she had no intention
of sharing it, either.
No, she could not expose herself in that way. Yet
everything inside her screamed for her to act. To do
something. He was her mate. The animal and the woman
agreed on this fact.
With her muzzle, she rubbed the back of his neck, feeling
the black strands of his soft hair tickling her nose. He
smelled good. Right. She tasted him then. With a swipe of
her tongue, she licked his skin. He smelled like a wraith,
but there was something else there; another essence,
something harsher, like ceremonial incense, as well as a
pungent and earthy odor—the same odor that had accompanied
him in her vision.
The man groaned, tried to lift himself up on his elbows
and immediately fell back to the ground. Coughing, he spit
something out from between his lips. Which landed atop
Bronwnn’s front paw.
Thorn apple.
“Fuck,” he growled, trying once more to move. He succeeded
in rolling to his back. His face, she noticed, was
breathtakingly handsome, despite the expression of pain he
wore. His hair was dark, his lashes just as black. His jaw
was firm, covered in black stubble. The man before her was
naked, and Brownn looked her fill, admiring his beautiful,
powerful body. From his thick arms, to the black hair on
his belly, down to the soft skin of his phallus, he was
hard and sculpted, just as a warrior should be.
Bronwnn was mesmerized by his body, by the sheer power and
strength it contained. She wanted to touch it, to run her
fingers along the firm flesh and hard muscle. Wanted that
hard body covering hers. The need inside her grew, until
she heard him moan. Worried, she stepped closer, and
glancing up from the part of his anatomy that had
captivated her most, she saw how his chest had been
mutilated, and how it now bled, the red trails of blood
running over his chest and onto his side.
This man--her mate--had been a victim of the Dark Mage.
Occult symbols were etched into his skin, the same symbols
that had been present in her vision. It was true, then,
what she had seen! It had just happened. Which meant that
the dark magician was close, and they were both in danger.
Heedless of anyone seeing her, Bronwnn changed into her
human form and quickly bent to her knees, intending to
help the stranger up. They must flee this place before
either the Dark Mage or Cailleach’s oidhche found them.
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