The farther her horse galloped, the faster her heart pounded. The closer the twins’ mother, Nica, came to the land of her birth, the louder her internal flame roared. It fanned the flames behind her irises, and its warm light shimmered in her long, wild hair. Surplus embers ignited the uneven ends of her roguish, red mane and burned holes into her cotton shirt. She pressed her heels into her horse’s belly and pulled tightly on its reins. The horse slowed to a trot, and then stilled before a jungle hot spring. As it dipped its head and lapped the warm water of the geothermal pool, its flaming rider dismounted. She waded into the pool, squeezed her nostrils closed between her fingers, and cupped her palm over her mouth. She closed her eyes, and then she submerged…
Tag Archives: Clan Dafyunesh
Sons of a Soul Split: Chapter Eight
Tick-tock, tick-tock! The brass pendulum of an ancient grandfather clock swayed to the rhythm of the star that governed the passage of time in another realm. It was one of many relics Ihrassius Dafyunesh plundered before Lord Draiden cursed the vampire clan to forever dwell in darkness, far beneath the bright, warm touch of any sun. The clock’s simple, consistent tune brought the taste of Ihrassius’s favorite meal back to his tongue whenever he heard it. Once, he played a long, sadistic chess game against a lonely country mouse. Her patient sorrow so enriched the flavor of her blood that Ihrassius longed for more, even centuries after he drained her heart of both her lifeblood and her unrequited love. The stoic grandfather clock was the only witness of Ihrassius’s merciless checkmate…
Sons of a Soul Split: Chapter Six
The air thickened with a pleasing aroma, a scent stronger than wildflowers and sweeter than perfume. Fruyr stopped, raised his chin, and sniffed. His eyes watered, and his pulse quickened, but his tongue and throat dried…
Sons of a Soul Split: Chapter Four
Beneath an unfamiliar, unfinished, velvet tunic, Fruyr sucked in his stomach and jerked away from the sharp tip of a sewing pin. If a pinprick drew a droplet of blood from his veins, the scent of fresh, warm, Elvish blood would surely arouse bloodthirst in the smooth-skinned, silver-haired maidservant, who steadily bedecked Fruyr in luxurious, hand-sewn attire, as befit a houseguest of Clan Dafyunesh. Fruyr marveled at how his vampire seamstress unnerved him. He had never been so skittish as to duck away from a needle before…
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