Izabel is now available for preorder! If that’s your thing, check out this link and settle in for a wait. It’ll release on September 20. If you’d like a bit of earlier access, there’s still slots available for Advanced Reader Copies over at Booksprout. While reviews are not required, they are greatly appreciated. The account is free and all links are provided for you.
On to the teaser! This snippet is from Chapter Three. Ranoch has made his first move on the reserved healer but isn’t sure if Izabel is agreeable to his pursuit or if she’s cowed by his dominance. This is her answer.
Ranoch Til sat behind a huge desk made from gleaming dark wood accented with bright aramidium hardware. A complex comm unit sprawled over the surface, multiple ’vid screens and input devices connected by a spider’s web of cables. The director had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to bare his forearms. His hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it several times, and a scowl marred the masculine beauty of his features. He looked up when the door clicked shut behind her and froze.
“Hi.” She summoned a shaky smile, questioning everything even as she forced her feet across the soft carpet of his office. “I was in the city and wanted to thank you for your gift.” A deep breath. “And I wanted to see you.”
Silence stretched between them as he continued to stare. She fidgeted under his intense scrutiny. Sliding the pack from her shoulder, she drew out the container of cookies and insulated flask of tea. Izabel placed them on his desk and returned her pack to her shoulder. Why hadn’t he said anything?
“You look busy.” She took a step back and gestured at the containers. “I brought you a snack. As thanks. I… I guess I’ll let you get back to work.”
Ranoch rose in a lithe, fluid motion and stalked around the desk to block her exit. His eyes had turned the dark green of a midnight forest, the fingers which tugged off her pack infinitely gentle.
“You came to me.”
It wasn’t a question. She answered it anyway. “Yes?”
“You came to me,” he repeated, “and brought me food.”
She blinked. Food was important to wolves, especially the wolves of Sorrow where meals were often scarce, and portions were small. Did it hold similar meaning to the Rifaniir? She’d never wished for a closer relationship with Shoba than she did at this moment.
“I did.” She raised her hand, hesitated for a moment, then ran her fingertips along his jaw. His beard was soft, his jaw hard. When he turned his head to brush his lips over her exploring fingers, her nerves dissipated like smoke. “A soothing tea and spiced cookies.”
He pulled her into his arms, one hand on the back of her head, the other just above the curve of her butt. Sighing happily, she slid her arms around his waist and nuzzled into his shoulder.
“You looked so dazed in your garden,” he murmured into her hair, “I was afraid I’d scared you. I didn’t want you to accept my touch out of fear.”
“Your touch is like lightning dancing across my skin, potent and addictive and yes, slightly terrifying.” Izabel tightened her arms around him. “But your dominance has never scared me. I find it soothing. Safe.”
“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Because I plan to do all sorts of wicked things to your beautiful body.”
Wolves of Sorrow: Izabel, September 20, 2022