- Hi all,
I am having a contest just for my Yahoo group members to celebrate my latest release, Cat's Curse. To be eligible to win a beautiful faery art coffee cup (stuffed with other cool prizes), all you have to do is read the following excerpt and answer this question: What pins her to the ground, stunning her and licking her face?
Send your answer to me OFF LIST to this email: kelleyheckart@... (if the link is broken, then copy and paste this into your email, kelleyheckart at kelleyheckart.com) remember to remove the spaces and add the @ sign. Or just click on my email above. Please put CONTEST in the subject header. Good luck! I am off to Flagstaff this weekend to sign my books at the AZ Highland Celtic festival. Details are on my website here: http://www.kelleyheckart.com Slainte!
AD 564, Alba
The hunt called to her, singing in her veins. Moonbeams cleaved through the frozen night, striking the earth between outstretched branches like gleaming metal blades. Cold air cut into her bones with sharp, icy talons, reminding her she had once been mortal. Venturing further into the thick forest of tall pine, oak, beech, birch and rowan, Cardea's booted feet crunched on the frost-encrusted earth, her senses searching out the sweet scent of blood.
A sharp sound roared on the black wings of night. Something stirred in the forest, waking slumbering birds in a nearby wide-branched tree. Wings fluttered far above her head, breaking the silence of the night followed by a man's deep voice echoing in the night, sounding like a thread of angry curses.
A pleased smile formed on Cardea's lips. The strong scent of blood stirred her senses--warm blood and human. Like an experienced predator, she adjusted her step, moving on silent feet through carpets of fern toward the scent of fresh blood, eager to sate her thirst. She moved like a shadow, darting in and out of the lofty trees.
Another sound stirred the hushed, sleeping wood. Something moved toward her through the forest at a fast pace, crunching leaves and twigs beneath pounding feet. Cardea stopped in her tracks, her body shimmering into the shadows.
The baying of hounds tore through the night.
She froze. Fear struck her like a resounding hammer blow. Could they be demon hunters coming for me? Demon hunters used hounds because animals could sense her even when she became one with the shadows. In her haste to hunt the human, she failed to notice the scent of hounds. Before she could react, two hounds the size of calves had her pinned to the ground, stunned. They licked her face, showering her face with drool.
A man's deep voice shouted out a command for the dogs to back off. Cardea sputtered, struggling to get the slavering beasts off her.
"Fian, Donnan!" The two hounds backed off, obeying their master's stern command.
Cardea pushed on her arms to sit up and faced the sharp edge of a sword blade, the sight of which made her draw in a sharp breath and remain still. The splash of pale moonlight revealed a man with long black hair standing over her, his great height matching a towering oak, his arms thick and muscled as oak branches.
"I would not move if I were ye, lass." The man's thick brogue washed over her, sweet and honey-like.
'Timeless tales of romance, conflict & magic'
Kelley's page at Awe-Struck