xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Kryssie Fortune: Three shades of Gorgeous #fae #werewolf #shifter #romace #dragon

Sunday, 9 April 2017

Three shades of Gorgeous #fae #werewolf #shifter #romace #dragon

I’m in the Hereditary Lykae King’s palace, and I’ve blagged an interview with the heroes from the first two books of my Scattered Siblings series, To Wed a Werewolf, and Curse of the Fae King. I thought I’d do a formal Q and A, what with them being Kings and all, but before I got started, they showed their true colors. This is how it went down.

Caleb the Cold rules the Lykae packs with a firm hand, and until he met Sylvie, he earned himself the sobriquet, the Cold. Believe me, ladies, the Lykae king is hot.

Then there’s Leonidas, King of the Fae. Dark haired, tall and broad-chested, the Fae King’s definitely not the Tinkerbell type. Even his muscles have muscles. I’m so going to enjoy this interview.

King Leonidas spotted me first. He crossed the great hall to greet me by kissing my hand. My god, it's hot in here. He spoke in an impossibly deep voice that made my heart race and made my temperature spike again. "Charmed to meet you."

Then again, King Caleb makes my breath catch in my throat. The blond warrior king matches Leonidas muscle for muscle, but he lacks his practiced charm.

There’s no formality in this castle. Caleb wandered over, rolled his eyes and said, “Hi. Ignore Leo’s attempts to flirt. He just can’t help himself.”

Leonidas’ eyes narrowed. “At least I don’t have to kidnap a woman to get her into my bed."

Caleb let his fingernails extend into claws. “Unlike you who just locked yourself in a tower, turned feral, and let your chamberlain pimp for you. I still don’t understand what that rainbow-haired witch saw in you.”

Leonidas’ voice deepened. Hell, it came from his boots, rumbled around his chest, then rolled like thunder through the great hall. “I could say the same about my little sister, but at least she had the wits to defeat the People’s Defense League. Apparently, she’s both the beauty and the brains in your relationship.”

Apparently, these two argue like this all the time, but I’m pretty sure there’s good humor beneath it. At least I hope so. Time to remind them where we are I think. “Are you ready for your interview, gentlemen?”

They both looked sheepish, then grinned. Before either could say a word, Joel Blackheart, Grand Marshall of the Lykae Forces, slipped into the room. Good grief, I wondered when I saw him, does every Lykae come in shades of gorgeous? The exalted company didn’t bother him—maybe because he had a smidgen of royal blood himself.

Joel sighed and shook his head. “That war dragon of King Leo’s caused chaos in the courtyard. He tried to force his huge bulk into the kitchen. The chef had hysterics.”

Leonidas chuckled—a sound so sexy breath caught in my throat. His eyes twinkled, and he got a soppy, I-love-my-true mate look on his face. “Meena will sort it.”

Joel grinned, and if there had been a thermometer close by mercury would have burst out the glass. “She already did. Now your prize war dragon’s laid with his head on his paws, and his tail curled around his body. He’s a picture of misery with his hangdog eyes and nobody-ever-feeds-me expression. Even the cook felt sorry for him in the end. He ordered the porters to bring trays of food from the kitchen.”

Joel sensed the testosterone flowing from the respective kings and moved to Caleb’s side.

Leonidas turned haughty. “I’m just pointing out my half sister has a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. Why else would she marry someone like your king?”

Caleb growled and bared his fangs. Fur grew on his arms. Then two women strolled in, arm in arm. One smiled shyly as she moved to King Caleb’s side. He swept her into his arms and moved in for a kiss that went on so long I thought they’d suffocate. Just watching it made my temperature rise. Again!

The other woman—the one with a mass of rainbow curls—rushed into Leonidas’ open arms. He swung her round, then buried one hand in her hair, and tugged her lips to his. She ran her foot up and down the back of his calf. Finally, she lifted her head. “Leo, I heard what you said. Play nice.”

Joel Blackheart stared out the window, then up at the ceiling. I half expected him to put his hands in his pockets and whistle. “Too much public pawing. Can’t you save it until you get to the bedroom.”

Leonidas and Caleb dropped their antagonist façade. United, they turned on Joel Blackheart. Caleb went first. “Just wait until you find your true mate.”

I don’t want to,” Joel shot back. “I won’t let some woman wind me around her little finger.”

Leonidas looked down at his queen, his heart in his eyes. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my Meena. I hope your true mate makes you crazy.”

Joel shook his head. “I’m immune to all that true mate nonsense. Sure, you two have found women who make you happy, but I’ve agreed to an arranged marriage that allies us with another pack. In three weeks I leave the Lykae army, return to Rackutta Valley, and take over as alpha of the Tundra-Tough pack. After that, I’ll meet the fiancee my father picked out for me.

Meena, the Fae Queen, turned to her sister-in-law Sylvie. “I hope those words don’t come back to haunt him."

Both kings swept their women in their arms and retired. I’m guessing there’ll be no interview today. Maybe I can pump Joel Blackheart for some facts.  

You can read his story in To Mate a Werewolf.


The scars on Ellie Padget’s cheek are a constant reminder of the times she tried to escape from sexual slavery. Two years ago, Joel—alpha in waiting of the Tundra-Tough pack—led the rescue party that freed her. She’s loved him ever since.

Their relationship finally explodes into steaming sex, but he offers to pay her off. She walks away with her head high and her heart shattered. When she learns of a plot to destroy Joel and his pack, her only option is return to his side and warn him.

Joel has to fight to retain the pack that should be his by right, and no one can leave until the pack has a new alpha. He’s horrified when Ellie turns up on the night he’s to meet the woman he’s agreed to marry but never met. She’s stuck there until he claims his birthright. Finally, he realizes Ellie’s his true mate. Now he has to choose between his arranged marriage, and the one woman he truly loves. Will he choose with his head or his heart?

Scattered siblings is a loosly linked series of Stand alone romances. Look out for 
To seduce an Omega - Titus and Viola's story

Claimed by the Vampire, Seduced by the Werewolf - Coming in May

Please note, only two of the recurring charactors pop up in this one.

See Loose id wegsite for details. 

You can find all my books here
United States,Author Page http://amzn.to/2nXkqdF

United Kingdom Author page   http://amzn.to/2olWtjs K

To give you a taste here's an excerpt from my first Scattered Siblings book, To Wed a Werewolf. Read and enjoy. 

“I told you”—a huge hand landed on each of Sylvie’s shoulders—“you’re not welcome here.” 

The damn security guard had already turned her away twice, but he definitely looked good in a tux. She could get a neck ache staring up at his towering wall of muscle and menace, but she liked the way his blond hair curled over his collar. His broad shoulders and long, lean physique made her heart beat a machine-gun rhythm, but his clear gray eyes narrowed when he realized she’d sneaked back again. 

Although her breasts perked up and demanded his attention, the attraction certainly wasn’t mutual. Maybe she shouldn’t have crept in with the caterers, but he’d left her no choice. Why did he have to be huge, imposing, and so sexy he made her mouth water? Damn it, she was lusting after another Lykae, and people’s lives were at stake here. 

Desperate to speak to the bride or groom, she grabbed a tray of drinks from a side table and slammed it into his stomach. Wine splattered the walls. Glasses shattered as they crashed onto the marble floor. The Lykae growled in annoyance, but the tray bounced off him like it had hit a brick wall. 

“Violent little thing, aren’t you?” He never flinched. “But I’m definitely up for the fight.” 

He stalked toward her, his eyes—dirty ice diamonds—condemned her, and she quickly dropped her gaze. 

Great! Now I’m staring at his dick. But it’s definitely worth a second look. 

His brows drew together in a frown so fierce her courage shriveled inside her. Arms wrapped around her chest, she backed off, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

“Hey, lady,” one of the caterers called, “get back in the dining room and finish setting up your tables.” 

“She’s fired,” the security guard snarled. “And step up your security, or your firm won’t work here again.” 

His clenched jaw and angry glower sent the caterer running. That left Sylvie trapped and alone with a furious Lykae. God, what if he turned? Would he rip out her throat? So scared she could hardly breathe, she stared anywhere except at him; then he stepped closer and invaded her personal space. One swift, graceful move and she hung over his shoulder like captured prey. An inch or so lower and she could bite his spectacular butt. When he flashed them into the otherworld, she struggled not to barf all over it. 

The transition always made her stomach churn. Once her nausea settled, she screamed the high-pitched shriek only a fairy in distress could manage. 

“That”—he stroked one hand over her bottom as she squirmed and kicked—“hurt my ears.” 

“Good,” she snapped, and screamed again. 

Whack! The gentle pressure became a full-on slap that made her bottom burn. 

“Be quiet or I’ll spank you again. The wedding’s in two hours, and I don’t have time to deal with a troublesome bitch like you.” 

God, that slap made her ass throb—and there he went insulting her again. What was it that attracted her to arrogant Lykae men? And why did they treat her as a second-class citizen? Story of her life, really. 

Even her Fae father had walked away and left her human mother to work two jobs to keep Sylvie clothed and fed. Then the day she turned seventeen, her half brother had arrived on her doorstep and told her she was a Fae princess. She’d told him to get real, but he had been. He introduced her to the otherworld—a place so beautiful it made her gasp, but so violent it scared her witless. Ever since, she’d dreamed of someone strong and special, someone who’d always put her first. 

“You don’t understand.” She beat her fists on Mr. Arrogance’s back. “I have to speak to Giles.” 

“I just bet you do, but news flash, sweetness, you have to get past me first.” He shoved her into a bare room, empty but for a cast-iron bed. “Don’t worry, princess. I promise we’ll play later.” 

She tried to dodge around him, but he moved with Lykae swiftness, blocking her way and looking her over like she was a fine meal. 

What the hell happens if he bites me? Will I turn all wolfy too? 

He backed her against the wall, placed one hand on either side of her shoulders, and leaned in closer. His woodland-fresh essence hit her; then his gaze focused on her lips. He pressed his body against her, and she suddenly understood the expression “hung like a stallion.” 

His grin was all predatory wolf and playful masculinity. Her body tensed with excitement. Anticipation made her breath catch as he lowered his mouth toward hers. Eyes wide, heart racing, she parted her lips for his kiss. Then he spun her around, shoved her, aching breasts first, against the wall, and locked one arm around her neck in a sleeper hold. 

Damn it, she thought just before she lost consciousness. What do I need to do to get a Lykae to kiss me? 

* * * * 

Sylvie’s sore arms and aching head woke her. She forced her eyes open, but the world seemed blurry and unclear. She’d no idea where she was or how long she’d been unconscious. Gradually her vision refocused, and she realized she stood in a bleak room—medieval even—her wrists bound in thick rope that looped around the rafters. No wonder her arms throbbed, but if she stood tall, she could relieve the strain. 

The room was dirty and neglected, but clean sheets covered the bed. Spiderwebs hung like curtains over the windows. Something flapped sedately past, its golden scales a stark contrast to the green sky, bloodied prey dangling from its beak. A wyvern swooped from nowhere, its claws sinking into the carrion eater’s flesh, and they plummeted downward. Their battle screams echoed through her prison, then ended in a roar of triumph. The blue-scaled wyvern zoomed past the window as it shot off with its stolen prey. 

Her Lykae had left her alone and vulnerable, but even if she escaped her bonds, how could she survive out there? And why was her magic always just beyond her grasp? Then she remembered. Mr. Arrogance had brought her here. As she struggled to free her wrists, she prayed he came back after the wedding. 

Oh God, the wedding! The war! 

She’d failed, and now the entire Fae Nation would pay the price. How could she have been so stupid? 

She swung like an acrobat on the rope, but her bonds stayed intact and her wrists burned and bled. Desperate, more scared than she’d thought possible, she screamed that bloodcurdling banshee shriek that carried for miles—but no hero rushed to her rescue. 

She’d no idea how long she hung there. Eventually the door opened, and Mr. Arrogance swaggered back, his every movement making his muscles ripple beneath his tux. 

He was one breathtaking, blond he-man, the stuff of any girl’s fantasy, but he’d never look at a skinny thing like her. Her stick-thin body, coffee-colored hair, and clear green eyes could never compete with the curvaceous Lykae ladies she’d seen back at the wedding hotel. Better to forget this jaw-dropping piece of masculinity and creep back to her half brother’s court—not that he wanted her for more than a political pawn. 

Her dominant Lykae stared at her, eyes stern gray mirrors void of any emotion, and his wolfish grin made her wonder if she was his dinner. Then she remembered his promise to play later, and no matter how she much she wanted to fight him, a delicious tingle spread through her pussy. Damn it, this was no time to give in to her body’s cravings, not when she had a wedding to stop—or better yet, postpone—and an interspecies war to prevent. 

“Had time to reconsider?” He smirked. 

“Are they married,” she demanded, “or is there still time?” 

“Persistent little beggar, aren’t you?” 

“You don’t understand—” 

“Oh, sweetness,” he mocked, “I understand all too well, but if you’re determined to play your sex games, you should play them with me.” 

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