Today it’s my pleasure to feature Feast of Fates, Book One in Four
Feasts Till Darkness, by Christian A. Brown
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication: September 9, 2014
ISBN: 978-1495907586
Number of pages: 540
Word Count: 212K
Book Description
"Love is what binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from
hate, and makes us soar with desire.”
Morigan lives a quiet life as the handmaiden to a fatherly
old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses paths with Caenith, a not
wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their meeting sparks long buried
magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts to understand her newfound
abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague her--visions that show a
devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal Kings who rules the land.
With Morigan growing more powerful each day, the leaders of
the realm soon realize that this young woman could hold the key to their
destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by enemies, and she must
master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.
Available at Amazon and Createspace
Giveaway! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win one of 5 signed copies of Feast of Fates (Launch Edition) shipped anywhere within US/ Canada.
Book Trailer
Excerpt
“I accept your
offering.” The Wolf’s face lit and she thought that he would leap at her. “Yet
first, I have a request.”
“Anything, my Fawn.”
“I would like to
see…what you are. The second body that shares your soul. Show me your fangs and
claws,” she commanded.
Perhaps it was the
steadiness of her voice, how she ordered him to bare himself as if he belonged
to her that made the Wolf’s heart roar to comply. He did not shed his skin but
for the whitest moons of the year, and even then, so far from the city and
never in front of another. In a sense, he was as much a virgin as she. With an
unaccustomed shyness, he found himself undressing before the Fawn, confused for
a speck as to who was the hunter. The flare of her nostrils, the intensity of
her stare that ate at him for once.
I have chosen well
for a mate. She is as much a Wolf as I, he thought, kicking off his boots and
then shimmying his pants down to join the rest of his clothing. No bashful
maiden was Morigan, and she did not look away from his nakedness, but
appreciated what she saw: every rough, hairy, huge bit of him.
He howled and fell to
all fours. Bones shifted and snapped, rearranging under his skin like skeletal
gears. From his head, chest and loins, the soft black hair thickened and spread
over his twisting flesh. His heaving became guttural and sloppy, and when he
tossed his head up in a throe of agony or pleasure, his beard had coated his
face, and she noticed nothing but white daggers of teeth. Wondrously Morigan
witnessed the transformation, watched him swell with twice the muscle he had
possessed as a man, saw his hands and feet shag over with fur and split the
soil with black claws. Another howl and a final gristle-crunching shudder (his
hindquarters snapping into place, she thought) signified the end of the change.
Her dreams did not do
Caenith justice. Here was a beast twice the size of a mare with jaws that could
swallow her to the waist. Here was a monster that had stalked and ruled the
Untamed. A lord of fang and claw. The birds and weaker animals vanished,
knowing a deadly might was near. Around her, the Wolf paced; making the ground
tremble with power; ravishing her with his cold gray gaze; huffing and blasting
her with his forceful breaths. While the scent of his musk was choking, it was
undeniably Caenith’s, if rawer and unwashed.
Morigan was not
afraid, and was flushed with heat and shaking as she slipped the bracelet on
and knelt. She did not flinch as the Wolf lay behind and about her like a great
snuffling rug and placed his boulder of a head in her lap. No, she stroked his
long ears and his wrinkled snout. A maiden and her Wolf. Soon the birds
returned, sensing this peace and chirping in praise of it. And neither Morigan
nor the Wolf could recall a time—if ever there was one—where they had felt so
complete.
About the Author
Christian A. Brown has written creatively since the age of
six. After spending most of his career in the health and fitness industry,
Brown quit his job to care for his mother when she was diagnosed with
non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2010.
Having dabbled with the novel that would eventually become
Feast of Fates for over a decade, Brown was finally able to finish the project.
His mother, who was able to read a beginning version of the novel before she
passed away, has since imbued the story with deeper sentiments of loss, love,
and meaning. He is proud to now share the finished product with the world.
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