I have a date! No, not that kind, but the release date for A Thread of Magic. It will go live on May 22! This one will be a slight experiment, as it will go into Kindle Unlimited for the first 90 days. Afterward, I’ll reassess taking it wide. It’s not scifi/space opera romance like my other two series, but a romantic urban fantasy set in my local area with dragons and magic and all the issues those powers can bring for those without them.
I’ll put out a call for ARC readers starting April 7. If you’re interested, please check the content information on the book’s page and let me know when I post the invitation.
Now, on to the snippet. This scene is from chapter 13. Michaela is slowly getting over her fear of the powerful dragonkin, while he grows evermore intrigued by her. He tempts her by offering the one thing she’s fascinated by: his wings.
“Would you like another touch?”
“What?” She snapped her gaze to his face to find him watching her with a faint smile curving his lips. Heat bloomed across her chest and crept up to her cheeks to scorch her ears. “No. That’s all right.”
He stretched one wing to its limit, the other restrained by the small bar which separated the dining room from the kitchen. “I don’t mind.”
A tempting offer she shouldn’t accept, but she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to! Her brief touch in Ryoosk’s office wasn’t nearly enough. She wanted to run her fingers in the ghostly flames. Discover if the membrane was warm and leathery or cool and smooth. Trace each claw-like joint. Curling her hands into fists, she clasped them behind her back. She couldn’t do it. Could she?
“They’re solid?”
His smile dared her to do it. His wing curved toward her in invitation. “Touch and find out.”
She rose and took a step forward. Stopped. “Are you sure?” At his nod, she reached out and brushed her fingers along the flickering edge.
It wasn’t like that brief touch on the island. It was better. So much better. Fire and leather and warm supple skin. The ethereal flames danced between her fingers but didn’t burn. Instead, they twined around her like a cat and fueled a different sort of fire. Enchanted, she stroked her hand over a hard joint, trailed her fingertips down the tautly stretched skin beneath it. It felt intimate in a way she couldn’t describe.
The dragonkin released a shuddering breath. When she dragged her gaze from the light dancing along the edge of his wing, she discovered he’d leaned back in his chair with his head tilted and eyes shut. She snatched away her hand and cradled it against her chest.
“I hurt you.”
His lids rose and crimson fire danced in the dark depths, terrifying and oddly compelling. “Not at all. As I said before, you have a delicate touch, Michaela.” He said her name like a benediction, like it was beautiful. Like she was beautiful. She’d risk more than a touch to hear him say her name that way again. “A dragonkin’s wing is very sensitive, especially when solid.”