Kerrick was weary. He and his fellow Warriors of the Blood; Guardians of Ascension, were responsible for keeping the death vamps in check. They spent every waking moment protecting humanity and Second Earth from the machinations of the one who led the evil bastards into the addiction for dying blood, to swell the enemy's ranks and deplete those of the Warriors as they throw themselves against ever-worsening odds, night after bloody night. Now the leader of Second Earth, Endelle, has charged him with shepherding a human through her ascension rites, protecting her from those who would kill her before she has a chance to take her place on Second Earth. Twelve hundred years of life have not prepared him for the strength of the bond he feels for Alison, in fact having lost too many of those he loves to the enemy the last thing he needs is the vulnerability such a bond would bring.
Alison Wells has decided to give up eight years of private practice and pursue her Ph.D. in psychology, but the universe has different plans. As she is seeing her final patient, her reality shifts. She has always had special abilities, so blatant that she spends a great deal of energy keeping them hidden, even becoming celibate when her last romantic encounter ended with her partner in the emergency room. Her special abilities had never caused hallucinations before, though. A blood-soaked killer with black wings and unearthly beauty seems to be after her. Before she can defend herself, she is joined by an earthier, sexier man with a set of his own white wings. He was far too sexy to be an angel, and his thoughts when she touched his mind were far from pure but all about protecting her life. Thrown will-she nil-she into the world of Second Earth, Alison finally finds a home where the gifts that kept her apart from other humans are more than accepted, they are welcomed in the fight against an evil she is only beginning to understand. In Kerris, she finds what she thought she could never have, a man with strength enough to protect him against her own powers, one who has the potential to be a true partner in all ways.
Caris Roane's brand new World of Ascension series begins with explosive sensuality and a unique take on Urban Fantasy. Politically evil machinations and a villain who has a great deal of complexity make this more than another paranormal romance. Add in the practically immortal Warriors in kilts and there is also plenty of man candy strewn about for a reader's enjoyment. All the characters have depth and presence, denoting the care with which Roane has created her world.
Book two, Burning Skies, will be released in May 2011; book three, Wings of Fire, in November, 2011.
On The Wings of Desire
Alison Wells is no ordinary woman. Born with super-natural
powers, she can never make love to a man without putting him
in grave danger. But when her special vision reveals a
glorious muscled man soaring overhead on might wings, she
feels an overwhelming attraction she cannot resist-even as
he tells her “I have come for you. Your blood belong to me.”
In the Heat of Passion
Kerrick is a vampire and a warrior who has fought his hunger
for a woman’s love for the past two hundred years. As a
Guardian of Ascension, he is sworn to protect Alison from
the death vamp armies who crave her blood and her power. But
Kerrick has cravings of his own-a forbidden longing to open
his heart and veins to Alison. To share his blood…satisfy
his thirst…and seal their fates forever.
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Kerrick stood by the bar at The Blood and Bite, looking for
a woman, the right woman, the one that would keep his head
straight, the one he craved. His thighs twitched, heavy
muscles he’d worked hard an hour ago, muscles demanding
relief. Hunger lived in him now, deep, begging, fierce.
He was a vampire and a warrior. He needed what he needed.
Yet something had changed and now he craved.
What he craved, however, he couldn’t have.
He’d taken vows.
His gaze slid around the south Phoenix club, into the many
dark corners, the deep padded booths covered in red velvet,
past the flashing strobes meant to disguise the various dark
deeds which brought mortal women in droves to the vampire
joint. The bar had the only real light, enhanced by a tall
mirror behind a landscape of hundreds of gem-like bottles.
The rest of the club slid to darkness all around the edges.
Vibrant moans punctuated the noise of the club and made his
thighs twitch all over again.
Still, what he needed wasn’t here, wasn’t the fuck anywhere.
He’d awakened a few hours ago with a hum in his chest that
wouldn’t go away, a need unfulfilled and now screaming. It
wasn’t just sex but sex was what called to him as an opener,
a place to begin. He hunted with his groin but couldn’t
find her. Not here. He wasn’t even looking. He couldn’t
look. He’d taken vows, goddammit.
“You listening?”
Kerrick shot his gaze to Thorne. “Shit. Sorry. No.”
“What the hell is the matter with you tonight?” Thorne, the
leader of the Warriors of the Blood sat on a stool next to
him nursing a tumbler of Ketel One.
Kerrick leaned his hips against the bar and turned to scan
the dance floor. Loud sexy music pumped through the dark
club. Shadows passed back and forth, women giggling, men
chasing as they had from the beginning of time. He shook
his head. “You ever had an itch you couldn’t scratch?” He
heard Thorne suck in a deep breath then exhale like he’d
been breathing water.
“Sure. Every night of my life.”
Kerrick palmed the back of his neck and rubbed. The muscles
were tight but then they’d been tight for a few centuries.
How long had he been here? Twelve. Yeah, his muscles had
been tight for twelve centuries. What would it be like to
have the strain worked out of every muscle?
He turned in the direction of the barkeep then tapped his
glass on the counter. Sam Finch, owner of The Blood and
Bite, drew close with a bottle of Maker’s and refilled the
tumbler with two fingers of liquid gold.
Kerrick nodded his thanks then threw back the whisky. He
was used to the burn as he swallowed. He let the fire eat
up his throat. He breathed in the vapors, felt his veins
melt a little, yet no relief. Never relief, just a slight
unwinding. “Where’s Medichi?”
“I told you,” Thorne said. His voice always sounded like
he’d roughed it up with some large-grade sandpaper. “I
sent him to Awatukee. Everyone’s out already. Again, what
the hell is with you?”
Kerrick scowled. “Shit.” The rest of the warriors had
received their assignments for the first round of battling
but like every night for a warrior, anything could happen
and usually did. “I’ve got this uneasy sense that all hell
is about to break loose. And it isn’t even a full moon.”
Kerrick tapped the bar once more. Sam refilled. He always
took care of the warriors, staying close. “That will be
Endelle.”
“What will be Endelle?” Thorne’s phone buzzed. He flipped
Kerrick off then slashed the small flat card to his ear.
“Give.” He nodded and let loose a bunch of yes, ma’ams for
the next minute.
Kerrick shifted hips and torso, his gaze locked on Thorne.
The brother’s hazel eyes were red-rimmed and not from
weeping–too much Ketel One and no reason to put the bottle
down. Thorne kept his fingers around the tumbler, stroking
his thumb up and down the cold glass. He was Endelle’s
numero uno and Endelle answered to no one. She headed the
main peacekeeping force in their world and the warriors were
hers to command. She was also a stick of dynamite, lit,
ready to go off.
Kerrick drew in another deep breath. His gaze drifted to
the dance floor. A wicked beat had the ladies gyrating and
the men putting their hands everywhere. A few fangs pierced
necks, which forced Kerrick to take another deep breath. He
should get out there and get some relief. Blood would help.
So would getting inside a woman. Yet, how long would the
buzz last? These days, not even two minutes so what was the
point?
Besides, what he needed wasn’t swinging her hips on a dance
floor and what he needed he’d vowed never to take again.
What he needed was a scent meant only for him, a myth, a
woman who could fill all the deep gorges of his heart. Even
if he found her, he was bound, hands together, ankles
lashed, mouth gagged, heart blocked by a steel cage of
guilt. So…shit.
He slung back the Maker’s and tapped the bar again. Sam was
once more at his elbow.
“Yes, ma’am.” Thorne slugged Kerrick’s thigh and caught his
attention. He looked up at Kerrick but kept speaking into
the phone. “Sure you don’t want someone else? That
particular warrior needs some R & R. In fact, I think he
ought to be pulled for the night.” He drew the phone away
from his ear and winced. Kerrick could hear the shouting
and the words were the same set he used when he was just a
little pissed off. He smiled and sipped. Endelle had lost
her subtlety a few millennia ago.
Endelle. Bitch-on-wheels, yet he’d die for her. She was
what kept their world from sinking beneath the enemy’s boot
and Kerrick served her, they all did. The Warriors of the
Blood loved her, hated her, goddam respected her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Thorne’s head bobbed and more yessums
followed. Finally, he thumbed his phone and replaced it in
an upper slit of his black leather kilt. He wore battle
gear and would soon head out like the rest of them. “You’ve
got an assignment.”
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He needed his sword in
one hand and his dagger in the other. Battling always
helped, always took some of the strain from his neck. He
stood upright ready for action. Thorne just looked at him.
“What?” Kerrick snapped.
“It might be a woman.”
Kerrick shook his head. “She wants me to protect a mortal
female? What the fuck? You know the vow I took and so does
Endelle. I don’t guard females.”
Thorne met his gaze head on, no blinking.
“Shit.” Kerrick dug in his heels, lowered his chin. He
split his resonance. “Not gonna do it.” He’d taken a vow
and the hell he’d overturn it just because Her Supremeness
willed it so.
“Endelle requested you on this one, no one else. She never
pushes me about assignments so she must have her reasons.
Besides, she didn’t have any details. She saw something in
her meditations, which as you know do not always pan out.”
“I’m better off battling. With the mood I’m in, I could
crush skulls with my bare hands tonight.” His biceps flexed
and quivered, a thoroughbred at the gate.
“Sorry. She wants you.”
The song ended abruptly and Kerrick’s voice boomed the
length of the building, “Fuck you.”
All conversation, from one end of the club to the other, got
knocked off-track for about three long seconds. Kerrick
glanced around and anyone looking his direction immediately
looked away. Warriors weren’t known for their sweet tempers.
Thorne lifted off his seat, his hazel eyes hard as steel.
He met Kerrick’s gaze dead on. “You don’t have a choice.”
“The hell I don’t and that would be Jeannie.”
“Jeannie?” Thorne cried. “What the hell are you talking
about?” His phone buzzed and he flipped Kerrick off again
as he drew the card to his ear. “Give,” he barked. “Oh.
Hey, Jeannie. Sorry. What’s up?”
Jeannie worked at Central Command. All the night’s
assignments flowed from Central straight to Thorne. Central
mapped the entire Metro Phoenix area and knew exactly where
the enemy operated and where the warriors needed to be.
Kerrick narrowed his eyes, his fingers flexed around his
tumbler. He imagined his sword in one hand, dagger in the
other. His heart rate increased.
“Got it,” Thorne said. He returned his phone to the same
pocket and let another juicy set of obscenities fly. “Okay.
You’ve got a reprieve. Four pretty-boys active in a
downtown alley. You know the drill.”
“Four,” Kerrick murmured, nodding. He almost smiled. He
clapped Thorne on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “But
please just get me the hell out of this other bullshit
assignment.”
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