BLOODSTONE
2011 Launching a Star Winner in Fantasy Romance
"Anything?"
His voice was a whisper that caressed flesh. Mirianna's stomach quivered. Her breasts tingled. Her mouth grew drier. Without thinking, she slid her tongue along her lips. Vaguely, she wondered what she'd done. And why time seemed suspended, as if everyone but she and the Shadow Man had been cast in stone and all sound arrested. All sound except the taut, guttural repeat of his question.
"Anything?"
Blurb:
What if looking at the face of the man you loved meant death?
Years ago, warrior Durren Drakkonwehr was cursed by a mage. Now feared and reviled as the Shadow Man, he keeps to himself, only going to town to trade rare bloodstones--petrified dragon's blood--for supplies. Though he hides his face, he can't hide his heart from the woman who haunts his dreams...
Needing bloodstone for a jewelry commission, Mirianna and her father journey across the dreaded Wehrland where the beast-men roam. When their party is attacked, only the Shadow Man can save them. Strangely drawn to him, Mirianna offers herself in return for her father's rescue.
Living in the ruined fortress with the Shadow Man, Mirianna slowly realizes that a flesh-and-blood man--not a fiend--hides there in hoods and darkness. But are love and courage enough to lift the curse and restore the man?
4.5 Stars from LASR
“A man whose face
can kill, a woman bound to him by a promise, and both haunted by mysterious,
intimate dreams of each other. Bloodstone’s story is rich and
layered, nuanced and engrossing…. Mirianna is instantly likable…. The Shadow
Man is deeply layered and deeply flawed….
I loved reading these two characters respond to one another…. Both are
powerful characters with strong personalities and the results are scenes which
swept me up and gripped me, and kept me eagerly waiting to see what they would
do next…. Helen C. Johannes has built up a rich fantasy world, with an
intriguing and unique history. I loved reading about the world, the things that
inhabited it, and the way it worked. She knew exactly how much to dole out and
when, in order to keep me informed but eager for more…. The book works well as
a breathtaking romance and as a fantasy story of heroes, magic and mystery. If
you’re in the mood for either, read it!” 4.5
Stars, Edelweiss, Long and Short Reviews.
Excerpt from Chapter One
Mirianna peered
through her lashes at blue sky decorated with wisps
of bright clouds.
Morning? But how…?
A quick inventory of her senses told her she lay on broken plates
of rock. Spikes of meadow grass leaned over her shoulder. Distant treetops
speared the sky, ringing a clearing that sloped down and away from the
lichen-studded stone under her fingertips.
The last she remembered, she’d been riding her horse through the
night and searching for her father. Alone. Lost in the no-man’s land that was
the Wehrland, while branches lashed her face and snatched at her cloak. Running
from…something…
Led by…someone?
Twin glimmers of yellow-green, luminescent…eyes hovered on the edge of her consciousness—and vanished when she
tried to bring them into focus. The effort awakened a torrent of complaints
from every muscle and joint in her body. Mirianna groaned.
Had she fallen? She moved each of her limbs in turn. Finding them
stiff but uninjured, she struggled to sit up, and a damp cloth dropped from her
head into her lap. She stared at it while everything else pitched and rocked.
“Would you like some tea? It’s
willow bark. Good for aches.”
Mirianna carefully raised her gaze.
A boy about thirteen knelt beside her. He wore a cloth wrapped around his
forehead, and his tunic, ripped over one shoulder, was russet with dried blood.
All she could think of to say was, “You—you’re hurt.”
Color rose on his pale cheeks. “I’m
on the mend. You’re the one who fainted.” With a crooked grin, he proffered a bowl.
“Drink this. It’ll make you feel better. I should know.”
He’d coaxed a smile from her, and he
looked harmless, so Mirianna held out her hand. When he made no move to pass her
the tea, she leaned toward him and took the bowl from his grasp. His gaze,
which ought to have followed her movement, remained fixed on a point somewhere
near her chin.
The
blind boy.
Apprehension thrilled along her
nerves. The boy couldn’t possibly be
alone. He hadn’t been alone before…
Memories followed in a stomach-tightening rush, tumbling over one
another, strange events made even stranger by this ungodly wilderness. A voice
in the night, sounding from nowhere and…everywhere, terrifying her and yet—somehow—stopping
her horse from bolting. A presence haunting her room at the inn, invading her
dreams with vivid, erotic suggestions. A touch—a dream!—that wasn’t so much a touch but a desire made...tangible. Mirianna quivered. Her breasts
swelled, and the burgeoning nipples prickled against the fabric of her bodice.
Where was the boy’s
master? Where was
the Shadow Man?
Her fingers clenched, sloshing warm
liquid onto her hand. She sucked in a breath, placed the bowl on the ground, and
twisted her body to find the answer.
“So,” said the voice that made her stomach
break into shards of sensation, “you do
remember.”
Mirianna forced a swallow. The
Shadow Man stood so close she could smell boot leather and wool, could see
black-encased thigh and calf muscles that looked as solid as the rock on which
she sat. Looked solid, because
underneath the black hood, gloves and all-concealing clothing had to be nothing
at all but darkness.
“I—I remember you told us the way to
Ar-Deneth.” Resisting the inclination of her gaze to rise, she turned away, making
a show of reaching for the tea and sipping it. Don’t look at him! Instead, she scanned the clearing for signs of
her father. Be safe, Papa. Please be
safe!
“Did you make it to Ar-Deneth?” The
boy leaned forward with hands on knees. “I served at the inn until a few days
ago. Did you stay there?”
“Yes.” Mirianna managed a wan smile
until she remembered he couldn’t see it. She touched the back of his hand
instead. “It was a very nice place.”
“Gareth,” the Shadow Man said, “check
the pack mare. See if her leg is fit.”
A look of disappointment crossed the
boy’s features, but he stood without hesitation. Staff in hand, he felt his way
down the hillside toward four horses tethered below. Mirianna noticed her own
gelding among them.
She sipped the tea, swilled it, and
sipped again, forcing herself to linger over the cooling liquid. The Shadow
Man’s brusque order to the boy told her he stood so close, she could almost
feel the imprint of his lower legs cradling her spine. She wished he would
speak or leave before the brackish tea made her vomit or her strung-tight
nerves made her bolt.
“Why didn’t you stay in Ar-Deneth?”
he demanded. “Why did you have to come back?”
His voice, though low, ripped at the
shreds of her control. Not because it accused. She’d expected that. Just as
she’d expected anger. And menace. What set her nerve endings vibrating was
something that underlay all the rest, something she should have expected because
she’d heard it before, only she hadn’t recognized it then. Nor could she quite
name it now, except it bore elements of frustration. And anguish.
She set the bowl aside. “Please
understand, I wouldn’t have come, but we—my father—needed more bloodstone. Ulerroth
said—the innkeeper said you were the only one who—”
“There were three men with you.
Where are they?”
His tone brought Mirianna’s chin up,
but she held her gaze fixed on the empty tea bowl. She was not going to cry. Her father was
safe…somewhere. He’d been ahead of her when they escaped the ambush. “I—the
clearing was full of Krad. We got separated.”
“Krad!” The Shadow Man strode to the
lip of the hillside and planted one boot on a rock.
He stood half turned away and far
enough the jangling of her nerves faded to a hum. Emboldened, Mirianna let her
gaze rise. The morning sun shone full on his back, showing her the sheen of
wear on the black hood, tunic and breeches that concealed every inch of his
flesh but hid none of the contours. On his raised thigh she detected a tear
that had been carefully mended. His gloves and boots bore the creases and
scuffs of long use. Even his belt showed faintly green where the dye had faded.
A sword, the broken blade extending no more than two hands’ span from the hilt,
stuck out from his belt like a common thief’s dagger.
Was this the
being who had invaded her dreams and turned them so
disturbingly sensual? Was this the wraith who two nights ago had spirited the
blind boy from their sight? Was this the possessor of a voice that had shaken
her to the core? In the full day’s sun, he looked no more than a man, taller
than some, leaner and more fit than most. Chagrinned by her fears, Mirianna
rocked to her knees and made ready to rise.
He turned at the rustle of her
movement. Her gaze went automatically to his face. But there was no face to be
seen. Only a shapeless drape of black cloth filled his hood where eyes and nose
and mouth should be.
Mirianna sat as if turned to stone.
Horror cooled her blood, and the hair rose on every part of her body. It’s his look. One look from him—at him—and men
go mad. Or die. By the Dragon, let me not die!
Somehow, she summoned the power to
close her eyes. She knew she’d succeeded only when she opened them again and
the Shadow Man no longer filled her vision. Every nerve, however, thrummed with
his presence, and she knew he stood not more than three paces behind her and to
the left. She knew, too, he faced the forest’s edge, his right hand gripping
the scrolled hilt of the weapon in his belt. She knew all this, and more,
because—somehow—he’d let her know it so she might never again forget who and
what he was. Don’t worry. I won’t forget
again.
She turned slowly, like one waking
from a dream, and saw what had captured his attention—three riders emerging
from the trees. “Papa!” she choked, and stumbled to her feet to meet him.
Find BLOODSTONE in e-book, audio and print at these sites:
Find BLOODSTONE in e-book, audio and print at these sites:
- Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/Bloodstone
- Amazon.com: Boodstone on Audible
- Barnes and Noble: Bloodstone on B&N
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