Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Theodor dropped down with a ground-trembling thud amidst a storm of red and orange leaves and stood to his full seven feet, staring Boraleashe in his eyes.
“Have you no respect? Your tardiness is unappealing and beneath your station,” Boraleashe chastised, but the icy venom in his voice was gone. The look he gave Theodor as he stood there in his formal attire and full copper armor, his cape floating on the wind behind him, was anything but disapproving.
Theodor inched closer until his chest was against the ice king’s and grated in a lethal tone, “Since you did not offer my father nor I the courtesy of sending word of your intended visit to our realm…” Theodor glared. “You should be honored by my lateness.”
Notalus didn’t miss the shudder Boraleashe tried to conceal beneath his heavy cloak,
Boraleashe slowly reached up and caressed a long lock of Theodor’s honey-brown hair, allowing it to sift through his fingers. “You know why I am truly here, don’t you, my fall prince.” Every muscle in his son’s body seemed to tense as his robe fell to the ground at his feet as if he’d already given up the fight. Boraleashe’s whisper simmered on his arctic wind and chilled them all to the bone. “The snow moon approaches.”
To Be Continued in Book II…
Boraleashe The Lord of the North Wind
Notalus
The End of a Season
“Father, are you expecting someone?” Theodor asked at the first notes of the herald’s trumpets announcing a visitor to their realm.
“No.” Notalus frowned.
A gust of frigid wind raced past them, blowing food and napkins off their dining table and across the gleaming floor. Notalus had just enough time to fling his heavy robe around his alpha-mate, Dustin, before another powerful surge of cold shot through the courtyards, leaving dishes frosted over and a thin layer of ice in their water goblets.
Dustin growled, “Shit! What in the—”
“It’s okay.” Notalus lowered his shield from around them.
The temperature dropped to almost freezing, their breath now visible when they spoke.
“It’s him…” Theodor gritted out, leaving the room so fast his guards had to jog to keep up.
“It’s who?” Dustin rasped, taking in Theodor’s anxious reaction.
“It’s my brother Boraleashe. The Lord of the North Wind,” Notalus informed them. “He is here in Tir an Fhomhair.”
“‘Brother’?”
“Well, we’re not brothers in the human sense. We are brothers in arms, brothers of the seasons, horsemen. We are not brothers of blood or kinship. We inherited the titan title from our fathers, but when we came of age to rule, that is when we met the others—I mean each other.”
“Does Boraleashe visit often?” Dustin asked.
“No. He doesn’t.” Notalus led them out of his chambers. He didn’t know if Boraleashe stayed isolated and never visited because of his furious winds or his frozen heart.
“Shouldn’t your son be at your side?” Dustin murmured out of the corner of his mouth as they preceded their court toward the palace’s foyer.
“Yes,” Notalus answered between clenched teeth, “since he is the king now. Not me.”
The guards opened the doors, and Notalus led his royal subjects down the palace stairs and into the grand courtyard. The trumpets sounded again, and gray storm clouds blanketed the sky, causing another dramatic shift in the temperature.
Boraleashe appeared in the sky atop his pearl-white stallion, Frostreign, in a mirage of frozen rain and snow. His robe was blizzard white and clasped around his neck with a sable fur collar, his armor shimmering like diamonds. His wind was so cold it sounded like icicles falling on a frozen lake. Boraleashe’s court trailed him by ground on their speckled Clydesdales, his viceroy paused in front to make his announcement.
“People of Tir an Fhomhair! All hail the Lord of the North Wind, Boraleashe Cavalerie, the last of the horsemen and harbingers of justice, the overseer of the Realm of Winter, and creator of the first frost. Titan and ruler of Tir an Amárach, the Arctic World.”
Boraleashe landed with the full force of his power, sending flurries and ice skating over the warm ground. Notalus’ people bowed, then tried not to gawk. Not because Boraleashe was the titan and lord of an element but because he was strikingly beautiful.
The bottom half of his blizzard-kissed, white hair flowed down his back and over the swell of his ass, while the top half was cinched and braided into an intricate pattern that reminded Notalus of a snowflake.
The iron gate to the palace grounds was pulled open, and Boraleashe sauntered inside on his impressive stallion. His court stopped a respectable distance away until Boraleashe dismounted and closed the distance between them. Notalus pulled Boraleashe by his forearm into a strong hug, happy but also a bit bewildered to see him.
“Brother, it has been too long,” Boraleashe said near Notalus’ ear, his voice chilling him.
“It has indeed.” Notalus released their grip and gestured to Dustin. “Boraleashe, allow me to introduce my—”