Enchanter Redeemed
Camelot Reborn, #4
by
Sharon Ashwood
Genre: Paranormal
Romance
Date of Publication:
February 1st 2018
Publisher: Harlequin
Nocturne
Cover Artist: Brandon
Allen
Tagline: Ancient
magic and new passion…
BLURB
In the last battle for Camelot, Merlin had to
make a terrible choice. Now he must pay the price. When a demon from his past
reappears, she wants nothing more than to destroy the wizard. Now to reap her
vengeance as a lover scorned, the demon occupies the body of Clary—the
apprentice who is capturing his heart—and has the innocent behaving in
uncharacteristic ways. Ways that push the forbidden desire Clary and Merlin
share into heated play…
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Excerpt:
Clary
jolted awake. Power surged through her body, painful and suffocating. Her spine
arched into it—or maybe away from it, she wasn’t sure. Merlin had one hand on
her side and the other on her chest, using his magic like a defibrillator. The
sensation hammered her from the inside while every hair on her body stood
straight up. When he released her, she sagged in relief. A drifting sensation
took over, as if she were a feather in an updraft.
Merlin’s
fingers went to her neck, checking for a pulse. His hands were hot from working
spells, the touch firm yet gentle. In her weakened state, Clary shivered
slightly, wanting to bare her throat in surrender. She was a sucker for dark,
broody masculinity and he projected it like a beacon. All the same, Clary
sucked in a breath before he got any big ideas about mouth-to-mouth. If Merlin
was going to kiss her, she wanted wine and soft music, not blood and the dirty
workshop floor.
Another
bolt of power, more pain, another pulse check. Clary managed a moan, and she
heard the sharp intake of Merlin’s breath. His hand withdrew from her pulse
point as she forced her eyes open. He was staring down at her with his peculiar
amber eyes, dark brows furrowed in concern. She was used to him prickly,
arrogant or sarcastic, but not this. She’d never seen that oddly vulnerable
expression before—but it quickly fled as their gazes met.
“You’re
alive.” He said it like a fact, any softness gone.
“Yup.”
Clary pushed herself up on her elbows. She hurt all over. “What was that?”
“A demon.”
“I got
that much.” Clary held up her arm, peering through the rents in her jacket
where the demon’s claws had slashed. Merlin’s zap of power had stopped the
bleeding, but the deep scratches were red, puffy and hurt like blazes.
“Demon
claws are toxic.”
“Got
that, too.”
“I can
put a salve on the wound, but you’d be smart to have Tamsin look at it,” Merlin
said. “Your sister is a better healer than I am.”
“She’s
better than anybody.” Clary said it with the automatic loyalty of a little
sister, but it was true. “She’s got a better bedside manner, too.”
Merlin
raised a brow, his natural arrogance back in place. “Just be glad you’re alive.”
She
studied Merlin, acutely aware of how much magic he’d used to shut the demon
down. He looked like a man in his early thirties, but there was no telling how
old he actually was. He was lean-faced with permanent stubble and dark hair
that curled at his collar. At first glance, he looked like a radical arts
professor or dot-com squillionaire contemplating his next disruptive innovation.
It took a second look to notice the muscular physique hidden by the comfortable
clothes. Merlin had a way of sliding under most radars, but Clary never
underestimated the power he could pluck out of thin air. She was witch born, a
member of the Shadowring Coven, but he was light years beyond their strongest
warlocks.
That
strength was like catnip to her—although she’d never, ever admit that out loud.
“What were you doing?” she demanded, struggling the rest of the way to a
sitting position.
“I was watching
the demons through a scrying portal when you interrupted me.” His tone was
precise and growing colder with every syllable. Now that the crisis was over,
he was getting angry.
“The
she-demon tried to kill me.” Clary’s insides hollowed as the words sank home.
Dear goddess, she did kill me! And Merlin had brought her back before a second
had passed—but it had happened. Her witch’s senses had felt it happen. The
realization left her light-headed.
“She
doesn’t get to have you,” he said in a low voice.
Their
gazes locked, and something twisted in Clary’s chest. She’d been hurt on
Merlin’s watch, and he was furious. No, what she saw in his eyes was more than
icy anger. It was a heated, primal possessiveness that came from a far
different Merlin than she knew. Clary’s breath stopped. Surely she was
misreading the situation. Death and zapping had scrambled her thoughts.
“I
shouldn’t have walked in on you.”
“No, you
shouldn’t have,” he said in a voice filled with the same mix of ice and fire.
“You’d be a better student of magic if you paid attention. You asked me to
teach you proper magic and not the baby food the covens use. Real magic is
deadly.”
Abruptly,
he stood and crossed the room to kick a shard of agate against the wall. It
bounced with a savage clatter. Clary got to her feet, her knees wobbling. He
spun and stormed back to her in one motion, moving so fast she barely knew what
was happening.
He took
her by the shoulders, the grip rough. “Don’t ever do that again!”
And then
his mouth crushed hers in a hard, angry kiss. Clary gasped in surprise, but
there was no air, only him, and only his need. She rose slowly onto her toes,
the gesture both surrender and a desire to hold her own. She’d been kissed many
times before, but never consumed this way. His lips were greedy and hot with
that same confusing array of emotions she’d seen a moment ago. Anger. Fear.
Possession. Protectiveness.
Volatile.
That was the word she’d so often used in her own head when thinking about him.
Volatile, though he kept himself on a very short chain. Right now that chain
had slipped.
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Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/btP6qzxOmpk
Other Books in the
Series :
Book 1 - Enchanted
Warrior (RITA nominee)
Book 2 – Enchanted
Guardian
Book 3 – Royal
Enchantment
For the first two chapters, click here: http://www.rowanartistry.com/book/enchanter-redeemed/
Author
Info
Sharon Ashwood is a free-lance
journalist, novelist, desk jockey and enthusiast for the weird and spooky. She
has an English literature degree but works as a finance geek. Interests include
growing her to-be-read pile and playing with the toy graveyard on her desk. As
a vegetarian, she freely admits the whole vampire/werewolf lifestyle fantasy
would never work out, so she writes paranormal romances instead.
Sharon lives in the Pacific
Northwest and is owned by the Demon Lord of Kitty Badness.
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