NEW RELEASE! Part 2 of the spicy, paranormal women's fiction All Saints Series is available from Amazon

Where Paranormal Romance Meets Contemporary Love Story

> Enemies to Lovers

> 3 x M/F couples

> Multiple POVs

> Overarching Plot

> Angels & Demons

>Demons & Devils

> Second Chances

> He Falls First

ENTER PURGATORY (on Amazon)

TRYING SOMETHING NEW

 Time for something new? You bet!

I noticed that I have a lot of stories (mostly short and unfinished) lying dormant on my computer, begging for release.

And that's exactly what I am working on. Get my short stories and novellas to a satisfying end and publish them on Inkitt 

A few days ago, I released my first novella on Inkitt.

THE SLAVE is a dystopian romantasy with a lot of spice and angsty adventure.

The story follows a disillusioned Fae who rediscovers his humanity with the help of a human slave.

Check it out for free and let me know what you think.

Happy Reading & Enjoy!

Heaven or Hell? Book 1 of the ALL SAINTS series. Where paranormal romance meets contemporary love story

REDEEMING THE UNREDEEMABLE

A female gold digger, an ancient warrior, and two supernatural consultants are facing an impossible task: To revamp Heaven and Hell and bring the epic realms into the 21^st century.

Guardian Jennie and consultant Cayn are in charge of Heaven.

Keeper Jimmy Black and consultant Verita are taking on Hell.

But the unlikely teams are fighting powers mightier than the job.

Forbidden feelings evolve and break through the walls of age-old morals and beliefs.

As worlds evaporate and turn upside down, the boundaries between love and lust blur, forcing the pairs to walk the tightrope spanning the precipice between their jaded pasts and an unlikely Happily Ever After.

Thrown into the explosive mix are the lost souls of the Inbetween. Souls that fill the wasteland between sinners and saints.

To reduce wrong admissions, they are required to undergo a second chance life, to ascertain which realm they truly belong to.

Jayson King dies an unhappy man. A disgraced cardiac surgeon, who did time for killing a young woman while driving under the influence, expects the fires of Hell to be stoked for his arrival.

But he gets caught in the restructuring exercise spearheaded by the supernatural consulting firm Holy-Cow-&-Burning-Desire LLC.

Jayson is forced to do it all again! But when he meets the sexy drifter, Zahara, surviving his second life becomes a priority.

👉Read "Heaven or Hell?", and find out who will go to Heaven and who will stay in Hell

                👆👆👆👆👆👆👆👆

The Princess and Her Warrior-King - A Poetic Fantasy

This was one of the first stories Nick Cole created. In The Odyssey (Book 2 of the Sphere-World Series), he wrote for Holly's first birthday, and it was part of a present to her.
This is the unabridged -  and more adult - version of the fairy tale, which Nick told on that day.

A Poetic Fantasy.

Fated Mates – A Princess and her Warrior-King

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived a beautiful princess. Her name was Joselyne (affectionately called Jossy by her friends and admirers). The girl was wise beyond her years, independent, and smart, and her tender-hearted nature was no secret amongst her father’s subjects.

Jossy was also known to seek solitude. To empty her mind and think about the need of her people.

Her father, King Leonhardt, was very proud of his daughter’s independence and intellect. But he was also aware that she needed to be wed to a man, who could take the reign over his kingdom. Old age was creeping up on King Leonhardt. Joselyne had been a late blessing to him and his beloved wife, who died in childbirth. To her father’s big dismay, Joselyne – so far – had failed to accept any of the numerous eligible noblemen her father had lined up for her to choose from over the years. So many did she reject that the neighboring kingdoms ran out of eligible princes, and her father had to seek new blood from farther and farther away.

While King Leonhardt was busy finding a husband for his daughter and an heir to his throne, princess Jossy did what princess Jossy did best: She tended to the many problems of her father’s subjects, giving equal attention to the small and the big ones alike,

And once in a while, when the wanderlust struck her, as it was in Jossy’s nature, she would walk the verdant hills and the dark woods that stretched outside the walls of her father’s castle. She would put on leather trousers, sturdy walking boots, and wrap her woolen throw around her slender frame, and set off for the forest, where she would spend a day (sometimes two or even three) in the tranquility of the wilds. In the peace of nature and the quiet of her own mind, she pondered the particularly tricky cases and the more difficult decision she had to make.

Jossy was never afraid of the wild animals. The princess and the wildlife had a mutual agreement of peace and truce: to respect each other's boundaries, and not to venture into each other’s territory. Not to upset the delicate balance of Nature, and not to wreak havoc with her inhabitants.

The woods had always been benign to princess Joselyne, and she walked freely and unhindered amongst its vast expanse, through the dense trees and the rolling foothills. She climbed the steep cliffs of to the high mountains that stood guard over her father’s kingdom, and she swam in the many ponds and rivers that sneaked through the green expanse.

It was the end of September, and the cold Winds from the West started to blow early, heralding the proximity of Winter. Jossy knew it was only a matter of time before Winter would conquer the land again and blanket everything in silent white. Jossy moaned the end of Summer – because it meant she couldn’t venture as long and as far as she liked to. It also meant shorter days and longer nights, which she would spend in her bed chamber longing for her true love. The one her father – despite his best efforts – seemed unable to procure. Deep inside her heart, Jossy knew: Her true love was never to be found in a regal castle, on a golden throne, eating fancy foods and sipping fine wines. Her true love was tethered to the woods. A kind-hearted soul dedicated to preserving the beauty and serenity of the natural world. Content with a warm shelter, enough food to not go hungry, and a perpetually open mind to discover the awe-inspiring grandeur of Nature. Tender, loving, warm – that was the man of Jossy’s dreams. Oh! And he was handsome. Not that looks mattered, but it was Jossy’s fantasy to run – so her prince might as well be handsome!

Stubbornly she wrapped her woolen throw tighter around her shoulders and hunched against the cold. “Damnation!” She muttered against the howling wind. Then louder: “Damnation! DAMNATION! DAMNATION!!” The shouting freed her soul, and Jossy laughed, screaming profanities into the West Wind as she trudged up the steep, forested hill that led to the top of the mighty cliff, from where she would be able to see Infinity Creek far below, running through its narrow and windy bed, occasionally widening to form rock-pools and little ponds along its path. Her eyes would follow its course to where it vanished into the dense woods at the eastern end of the valley. She took a deep breath and sighed. Ah! What she would give to see what lay beyond those trees! How she wished to know where Infinity Creek ended! Never had she ventured that far – always mindful of her duties to her father and his subjects. But on that fateful day, the West Wind infused her with recklessness!

She knew of the steep, treacherous path that led from the top of the cliff all the way down to its bottom. Erasmus, her childhood-chaperon, had shown her. Well – in all truth: He had warned her to never venture along this path because it was dangerous and would end in heartache and pain. And because Jossy was an obedient girl (most of the time anyway), she never considered questioning Erasmus’s interdict. Turns out, grown-up princess Joselyne was less obedient and far more inclined to trespass boundaries. And Erasmus was nowhere near to watch over her like a mother hen for that matter…

Decision made, Joselyne walked, determined to climb down the cliff. At first, the path wasn’t too daunting, but as she progressed, the situation changed. With the howling wind a steady opponent, she could hardly keep her eyes open enough to see the path in front of her. It took her much longer than anticipated to progress along the steep, narrow strip of rock, and so it happened that gloaming caught her halfway down.

Jossy – exhausted, cold, hungry, and very, very angry with herself – felt her way along the sheer wall. Step by step, never daring to lose contact with the jagged rock at her back, never able to shuffle her feet more than a few inches at a time. At this rate, she would be up here all night!

But Jossy had an iron will and a lion’s heart. She would make it! She would make it down into the valley, and then she would follow the river and find her way back to her father’s castle. Chin up! She made it, barely! Exhausted to within an inch of her life, frozen to the bone, and hungry like a wolf, she staggered to the bank of the river, where she fell to her knees and drank her fill of the clean, fresh water. Unable to move any further, she curled up into a ball and fell asleep.

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

Lôghan cursed the winds! They blew their bone-charring, icy breath across his weary existence. Another long, lonely, cold winter lay ahead of him. With nothing to keep him warm or his mind occupied, other than the knowledge that very soon Lyl Shadowspawn, the evil witch, would claim him. Skin and bones! Grab him and drag him into her realm, a place tainted with evil magic and so barren and devoid of any stimuli that merely contemplating it made Lôghan shiver with dread. Eternal evil, eternal pain, eternal darkness of the soul – that was his future if…

He didn’t dare to think about the IF, because there was no hope in hell his IF could ever happen. Not ever – and certainly not now.With only three full moons left to break the spell, Lôghan was rapidly running out of time. “Might as well enjoy the bloody wind while I still can,” he mumbled in frustration. He listlessly trudged to where his trusted friend Lucifer was nibbling on the still lush autumn grass.

“Let’s go and spend the day in the glen,” Lôghan whispered into the horse’s ear, and the mighty, white stallion whinnied agreeably.

Lôghan was once a warrior-king of noble descent, heir to a throne, which ceased to exist after he had been cursed and banned to live a life in the Darkwoods, where the witches and fairies ruled, and humans seldom ventured. And if they ventured, they got lost and died – never to be seen again. Aeons ago, Lôghan would have laughed at such legends, but now he knew better. He was one of the cursed souls, trapped inside the Darkwoods, unable to shake off the evil spell that was cast upon him a hundred years ago. Hundred years of solitude, hundred years of longing, hundred years of desperation, of trying to break free… perpetually failing. Lôghan was tired, and part of him welcomed the change ahead – even if it was a fate worse than death: an eternity in the Wastelands. He had no hope in hell to get away and lead a normal life!

They were just around the corner from the Enchanted Glen, when Lucifer lifted his head and snorted, his warm breath forming clouds of mist in the cold air. It was only then that Lôghan noticed that the winds had stopped blowing. An eerie calm lay over the land. Lucifer pranced and threw his head nervously from side to side.

“Shhhh… what is it, boy?” Lôghan tried to soothe the agitated stallion. But Lucifer was not responding to Lôghan’s attempts to calm him down. Right! Lôghan dismounted and beckoned the upset horse to stay and wait for him. The warrior silently unsheathed his trusted sword, gripped his hardwood staff, and carefully advanced toward the sharp turn on the path ahead. Some creature might have been lurking just around the bend, waiting to ambush whatever crossed its path. Not with me! Lôghan gripped his sword harder and prepared himself to defend against an attack. Nothing could have prepared him for what literally lay around the corner!

“Heavens and All Saints,” he muttered. Not that he was a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, but his mother had brought him up well, and cursing in the presence of a lady – even an unconscious one – was not appropriate. He slowly tucked his sword into its scabbard and carefully placed his staff on the ground next to the motionless figure of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Not that he had seen many over the past century. Still – this one was exquisite! MINE! The single word roared through his mind, took over his senses, and wiped out any rational thought. He acted on pure need and instinct when he fell to his knees next to the helpless woman. He made sure she was still breathing, had no apparent wounds, or broken bones before he picked her up and carried her to where Lucifer stood rooted to the ground – calmer now and ready to take both their weights. Lôghan settled the unconscious woman in front of him and urged the stallion back to his modest cottage in the only clearing in the cursed Darkwoods.

He carefully settled her onto his bed, stoked the fire, and then went to task to undress her. He had to! She was sodden, and her skin was ice-cold. He needed to warm her up! Lôghan wrapped her in blankets and his own down comforter. He only hesitated briefly, before he undressed and snuck under the mound of coverings to wrap his warm body around her frozen one. Close! So close… He could hardly breathe because every time he inhaled, the scent of a wildflower meadow in full bloom hit him like an iron fist in the stomach. He groaned. He hadn't smelled a summer meadow in a hundred years! Ah! How he would have loved to… And now he lay next to his beautiful, beautiful summer meadow in full bloom, warm and soft, inviting him to run his fingers over the lush vegetation, immerse himself into the sensations, inhale the sweet, sweet scent of summer. He squeezed the girl hard and pulled her closer. “Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded half-crazed before he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

A piercing scream jolted Lôghan awake! He blindly groped for his sword, or his staff or anything really to mute the banshee that'd invaded his cottage. But of course, banshees didn’t exist – not in the Darkwoods anyway!

He jumped out of bed, the covers falling off his naked body. The screaming intensified by a tenfold. What the…? Lôghan was still half asleep and disorientated accordingly. The fire in the hearth had died down to glowing embers, barely illuminating his bedchamber. A soft glow reflected off the strange woman’s creamy skin. The banshee! No! He shook his head to align his muddled thoughts. She clutched a light woollen throw against her body, trying desperately to cover her nudity.

Lôghan felt the irrational urge to rip it away and revel in the glory of her body. He shook his head again – more forcefully now. The girl was mortally afraid! And who could blame her? Yeah – I mean, come on, who wouldn’t be terrified waking up naked in a stranger’s bed?

Lôghan went motionless. Then, he slowly put his sword down and held his hands up in a gesture of benevolence, hoping he could communicate his good intentions to the terrified girl, who wouldn’t stop screaming.

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

Jossy’s eyes darted from left to right, seeking for a weapon she could use to defend herself against the stranger, who stood dark and naked on the opposite side of the bed. Naked! Dear Heavens! She licked her lips. He frantically wrapped his shirt around his waist – and it didn’t do much to conceal his… Jossy swallowed. She squeezed her eyes shut but the image of her captor – the heated feel of him wrapped around her naked body, skin to skin, the delicious sensation of him pressing hard against her derrière – kept resurfacing. Jossy blushed violently. She never thought she could actually want a man like she wanted this stranger.

“Who… who are you?” she finally managed to whisper through parched lips.

The man extended his hand – the one that didn't clutch his shirt tightly to his waist – and spoke. Ah! His voice was something entirely otherworldly. Deep, rich, thick and cool as cream poured over fresh strawberries. Jossy licked her lips again.

“Lôghan. My name is Lôghan,” he said in his delicious voice, and Jossy felt the urge to lick his throat, his stubbly jaw, and then take the words from his sensual lips; drink them in and soothe the burning desire deep inside her. She had the feeling it would take more than a kiss to curb said desire – a whole lot more.

“Joselyne,” she replied. “Jossy to my friends,” she added hastily, not knowing why she would reveal her nickname to this man, who played havoc with her senses.

“Jossy,” he murmured. “Welcome to my humble cottage. I found you last night at the bottom of the cliff.”

She pointed to his bed, her eyebrows drawn accusingly as she took in first her and then his state of undress.

“Body heat,” he explained. “You were almost frozen to death. It was the only way to warm you up. You nearly gave me frostbite.” He chuckled. Jossy blushed some more.

“How are you?” he asked, sincere concern lacing his delicious voice.

Never stop talking to me! The thought hit Jossy with a brutal vengeance that made her sway.

“Oh, Heavens! You must be hungry. And thirsty. Forgive me! I am asking dumb questions when you should be resting, eating, and drinking.” Lôghan flipped the duvet back and invited Joselyne to climb back into bed. “Turn around,” he commanded with a voice that was much hoarser than before. Jossy obeyed, and when she was allowed to look at him again, he stood in his leather trousers but still bare-chested. Jossy admired his lean, muscled body, the faint dusting of dark hair covering his chest and abdomen. She watched him walk to the hearth, stoking the fire, and preparing a concoction of herbs steeped in hot water and a generous slice of bread, warmed and crisped up over the open fire, then smothered in lashings of what looked like freshly churned butter and topped with a dollop of a thick, red jam.

He brought her breakfast over to the bed. He carefully sat down on the edge and offered her the mug and the plate. Jossy took a sip of the hot brew and closed her eyes appreciatively.

“This is good." 

He smiled, pleased with her appreciation.

Then she bit into the bread, and it tasted like a slice of heaven. “Mhhhmm...” she moaned as she chewed and swallowed. When she opened her eyes again, she looked straight into Lôghan’s dark, blazing eyes. Jossy froze. Time stood still. He lifted his right hand and gently picked a breadcrumb from the corner of her mouth. Then he raised it to his mouth. His tongue darted out and licked the breadcrumb off his finger. Jossy almost swooned. This was all so wrong! But then… Why did it feel so right?

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

Lôghan didn’t think for a second about the curse when he nursed Jossy back to strength. It had been five days before the full moon when he found her in the woods. Now, with the full moon only days away, Lôghan remembered. Sadness – so profound it crushed his heart – fell over him.

“Why are you sad, dear Lôghan?” Jossy asked from underneath the mound of blankets and duvets. He insisted on her staying in bed and “getting well”.

“I have never been better,” she grumbled repeatedly. She was itching to get up and explore Lôghan’s cottage and the surrounding woods.

“Nothing,” he replied with an abyssal sight that made her heart twist with pain for his sorrow. In a spur of compassion, Jossy reached out to touch Lôghan’s hand, and without much thinking, he took it. Calm contentedness settled over him, and he never wanted to let go of her hand. If only…

He froze. What if… she was his IF… the one to break the spell? He didn’t dare think about it; because he should do the right thing and take her back to the edge of the Darkwoods from where she would be able to find her way home. He should do the noble thing and not drag her into his botched-up life. Not sully her with his filthy past. There was no future for him – other than the Wastelands. He hung his head in defeat.

“Tell me,” Jossy’s voice rang sweet in his ears, touched his heart, made him bleed with want and need. The Fates had been dealing him a cruel hand!

“Let me show you something,” he said so low she could hardly hear. “A place,” he added. “A place that means a lot to me.” Then he called for Lucifer, wrapped Jossy into her heavy woollen coat, and carried her to his horse. They rode in silence – away from Lôghan’s cottage, following Infinity Creek, all the way to the end of the valley. There, Lôghan turned Lucifer onto path, which Joselyne hadn’t noticed. The narrow path was covered in fallen leaves, and the horse’s hooves hardly made a noise on the soft ground. Trees and ferns encroached on the trail, which itself seemed well-utilized. Jossy longed to see Lôghan’s face, but she sat in front of him, and all she could concentrate on was his proximity. Strong arms banding her waist. Muscled thighs framing her own legs. His hard chest against her back. Warm, steady breath tickled her neck, and his pelvis rocked into her with the rhythm of Lucifer’s movements. Jossy felt the overpowering urge to lean back and sink into his body.

She didn’t know about the curse. She didn’t know she held the key to Lôghan’s future – all she knew was that her life would never be the same.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered into her ear, and she complied.

He stopped Lucifer a short while later. “You can open them now,” he said, his voice laced with anxious anticipation.

The first thing she noticed was the warming rays of sunshine on her face. She squinted and saw the most beautiful, serene, and enticing place she’d ever been to.

“The Enchanted Glen,” he murmured.

A shiver ran down her spine. The glen lay at the bottom of a natural ravine. At the far end, a waterfall filled a rock pool with water so clear and blue it might as well have been a slice of heaven. The river meandered through the glen and disappeared into the surrounding forest. Green, green grass covered the meadow around the pool and the banks of the river. Tall oak trees provided shade but allowed enough sunlight in to render the micro-climate of the glen warm and pleasing – just like a perfect summer’s day. Jossy fell under its spell, and she never wanted to leave this place again!

“This is magical...” Jossy almost forgot to breathe. The sound of Lôghan’s chuckle rolled through her body like a heatwave, and the movement of his chest caressed her back, setting her skin on fire. She started to tremble.

He quickly dismounted, wrapped his hands around her waist, and lifted her off Lucifer (who was already grazing contently on the lush grass). Joselyne stood on shaky legs, her hands gripping Lôghan’s biceps, digging her fingers into his hard muscles.

“Sorry,” she whispered and loosened her grip. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and her wayward imagination did nothing to help her dispel it. It would be so easy to just sink into his arms, against his body, lift her head, open her lips for him to explore her mouth, and…

She broke away from him, and his features displayed an array of emotions reaching from confusion to stark disappointment. And something Jossy didn’t dare to put words to. Something so carnal and base, just the thought alone made her go weak and helpless. What did she have to set against this man’s spell? How could she ever deny him? She didn’t know, but she knew that here – in the Enchanted Glen, they could be whatever they wanted. They’d reached a crossroads, and there was no turning around.

Very slowly, very deliberately, Jossy stepped into Lôghan’s arms. She took his face into her hands. Sought his eyes. Turquoise lakes met midnight sky. And then their souls collided. Her knees buckled – he steadied her. Lôghan sank to his knees and took her with him. They breathed hard. Lôghan could see Jossy’s heart hammering under the delicate skin of her neck. He noticed that his haert was galloping hard as well. He lowered his forehead to Jossy’s. She reciprocated by leaning into him. He gently rubbed his nose against hers. She exhaled, and her lips parted – an invitation for him to place his lips on hers and explore the warm depth of her mouth. Lôghan shook. He hadn't kissed a woman in a hundred years. It seemed cruel that now – with just a few moons to go before he would vanish from the face of the earth – he should find a woman he cared for. Somebody, he could imagine a future with. He produced a harsh laugh.

Joselyne flinched. Lôghan resented her wanton nature. Of course! She should have known better! How could he respect a woman who offered herself in such a shameless manner! Her cheeks blazed with flaming red. She lowered her gaze and averted her face.

“What is it, Princess?” Lôghan asked with an equal measure of concern and tenderness in his voice. “Am I pushing things too fast?” He cupped her chin and lifted her face. When their eyes met, he was lost. And so was she. The very forces of Nature drew their lips together. Their tongues entwined, danced, tasted, stroked. He moaned and pulled her closer into him, gently lowering her to the soft grass without breaking their kiss. Nothing could break their kiss! Nothing could stop them.

Joselyne became dimly aware of their surroundings: the warming rays of a summer sun, a gentle breeze – just enough to prevent them from overheating, the soft murmur of the river, the sound of the falling water, the scent of summer, the warm grass against her back – his hard body against her soft curves. She wanted to stay like this forever and ever.

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

Quercia, the wood nymph, elbowed Alba, the white witch, and giggled.

“See! I told you we would find somebody to break the spell.”

Alba waggled her head. “I don’t know, dear Quercia. First, they must fall in love and then – then she needs to remember. Remember all of him. His name, the way he feels, their love… everything...” The white witch threw her arms up in despair and heaved a deep sigh. “I am not sure this will happen with only three moons remaining before Lyl can claim Lôghan’s soul.”

Quercia hung her head, but not for long! The indomitable optimism of a wood nymph wouldn’t allow for defeat. “We shall give them both a helping hand,” Quercia said. “Lyl Shadowspawn might make the rules within the Darkwoods, but her influence does not extend beyond its borders.”

“What are you saying?” Alba raised her purple eyebrows questioningly.

“I say, I can make sure that our princess meets our warrior-king each time the moon waxes... give her a chance to remember.” Quercia had a devious smile on her face. Wood nymphs liked to meddle – play match-maker and muse and angle. And Quercia, in particular, would do anything to throw spanners in the works of Lyl Shadowspawn. (Unfinished business, you see…).

Then they both backed away from the glen, where things got more heated by the minute, careful not to make their presence known.

Jossy became dimly aware that she needed to gather her faculties! But why? Why could she not just give in to her feelings? Surely here – in the cocoon of the Enchanted Glen – she could do whatever she liked without consequences in the real world. Surely…

“Jossy...” Lôghan’s voice… husky and breathless.

“It is all right,” she answered equally out of breath.

And he believed her. Because it was all he had to cling on to.

For three days and two nights they lived as lovers in the Enchanted Glen; exploring, loving, getting to know each other. At the end of the third day – the first day of the waning moon – Lôghan lifted Jossy onto Lucifer’s back, and they left the glen behind.

“Why do we have to leave?” Jossy was heartbroken.

“The Enchanted Glen vanishes at the end of the first day of the waning moon,” he explained. “But it will reappear on midnight of the day before the full moon. Then we can meet again, my princess.” Lôghan pressed a tender kiss to Jossy’s temple. “For now, I will take you to my cottage, and tomorrow morning I will take you back to your father’s castle.

They spent the night in Lôghan’s cottage – as friends, as lovers – laughing and loving. And every laugh, each kiss, held the promise for their relationship to be so much more. If only Joselyne would remember him! Lôghan couldn’t bear the thought of Jossy forgetting all that had been between them; wake up in a stranger’s bed again and be scared to death. Lôghan kissed his lover good-night and held her tight against his chest. If he didn’t fall asleep… perhaps – just perhaps he could will her to remember.

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

Her piercing scream brutally catapulted him from an erotic dream straight into reality. Gray daylight filtered through the windows, and from where he lay bleary-eyed it was evident that his beloved didn’t remember the first thing about him. His heart plummeted like a rock to the bottom of a still pond – fast and straight.

Lôghan rattled down his spiel about how he found her wet and cold and how he needed to keep her warm. Then he fed her again, careful not to reveal anything of what had happened between them. Then he sat her on Lucifer’s back and took her to the edge of the forest from where they could see her father’s castle. When they stood at the edge of the forest with its dark, tall fir trees behind them and only an autumn meadow separating them from her father’s castle, Jossy slid off Lucifer’s back. She profusely thanked Lôghan and turned her back on him to leave him behind and never see him again. The witch’s spell worked in a way that once she lost sight of him, Jossy would forget all about him. Lyl Shadowspawn never took any risks!

“Not so hasty, Princess,” Quercia chuckled and waved her delicate fingers towards Jossy and Lôghan. The fine mist of an ethereal substance settled over the pair and formed a bonding bubble around them. “This should be enough to jog your memory the next time we reach the full moon,” Quercia murmured. Bonded by the wood nymph’s magic, Joselyne and Lôghan would feel compelled to seek the edge of the forest at the right time. Joselyne would follow the warrior-king without hesitation because her heart would remember him. This wasn’t exactly meddling with the spell itself – it wouldn’t make Jossy remember her lover when she next woke up in his cottage after spending the days and nights around the full moon within the Enchanted Glen. But at least it would give her a fighting chance to do so and break the spell! At least they would be together! Everything else was in the hands of the Fates...

Quercia sighed and spoke a wee wood nymph’s spell for good luck and love and a happy future. She’d always been a sucker for happy endings.

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

When the time of the full moon approached next, Jossy felt restless and ready to walk the woods again. She wrapped up in her sturdy hiking garb and made her way to the edge of the forest. Lôghan, equally compelled to capture a glance of the woman he craved but was sure could never again, stood at the edge of said forest, looking longingly towards the castle in the distance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, or why. It was clear to him that Jossy had forgotten all about him. The best thing he could hope for was that she remembered him in her dreams. In that state of sweet delusion, where the brain takes over and mashes reality with hopes and longing. He prayed, she would see his face in her dreams, feel his arms around her, his kisses on her lips. Feel his eyes burn her soul and mark her forever his. But those were foolish notions, of course. Juvenile dreams, born of a delusional mind – a mind refusing to think about a tomorrow not too far in the future, when an evil witch would possess his soul forever.

“If I could just see her one more time...” And as he spoke the words out loud, he heard the rustling noise dried autumn-leaves make when a person walks on them. He spun around and saw HER stepping out of the forest behind him. Lôghan’s heart swelled and threatened to burst there and then.

“Hello, stranger. Who are you, and what brings you here?” Jossy’s sweet, sweet voice set the air to vibrate and transformed the chilly autumn winds into a balmy breeze. He savoured her voice, drank in her beauty, and offered her his heart on a platter. 'I am yours,’ he thought. ‘Now and forever!’ He sighed. If she could only remember him!

“I live in the woods,” he jerked his head in the general direction of where his cottage lay hidden behind the magic spell, Lyl had put around the place.

Jossy eyes him curiously. “I wonder why I never came across your place before,” she mused.

“I’ve only just moved in.” Lôghan hated to lie to Jossy but telling her the truth was out of the question. He extended his hand in an inviting gesture. “Come with me?” he asked, and he was acutely aware of the suspense his voice carried.

Jossy hesitated only briefly before she threw all caution in the wind and took Lôghan’s hand. He swiftly lifted her onto his stallion and led the animal away from the forest’s edge and into the deep, dark woods, towards where their Enchanted Glen was due to appear before nightfall.

Three days and two nights of magical love later, it was time to leave the glen and make their way to Lôghan’s cottage. Their bond had solidified, their love was stronger now than it had been the last time, and Lôghan was hopeful, that – came dawn – Jossy would remember him. That she would wake up in his arms and remember his kisses, the way she invited him into her body and soul, the feeling of him inside her… Close – so close.

He woke heartbroken as her scream violently ripped away the gossamer sheet of hope he had dared to gather around himself.

Again – he took her home. He carefully sat her down at the edge of the forest, vowing he would be waiting for her on the rising tide of the next full moon. His final chance to Make. Her. Remember.

Time passed painfully slow.

Lôghan wracked his brain, trying to come up with a solution: to make Jossy remember without interfering with the rules of magic. But how? He went around in circles. There was no solution! No happily ever after! No hope… There would be nothing left but memories of her and him. Eternal longing for what could have been. Lôghan swallowed the lump in his throat and gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t give Lyl Shadowspawn the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. He would hold on to his memories, lock them away inside his inner treasure-chest, and if the going got tough (which he knew it was going to!), he would open the secret chest in his mind, which held all his precious memories.

One. More. Time! It would have to last him for eternity…

On the day before the full moon, Lôghan stood at the edge of the forest – eagerly awaiting and filled with dread at the same time. He could never tell her, that it would be their last time. How could you tell your lover? Ever!

‘She won’t remember that you were lovers,’ he lashed himself, and the cruel leather tongue fashioned from his darkest thoughts bit into his skin. Soaked in acid, it burned his flesh and dissolved it all the way to the bone.

‘She will not suffer from losing you,’ those words drifted like a soothing balm over his open wounds. He hung his head in acceptance of the inevitable.

“Hello.”

Ah, her voice! Music to his ears. He lifted his head and smiled despite the pain torturing his soul.

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

Jossy happily climbed onto Lucifer and allowed Lôghan to spirit her away to their Enchanted Glen. As soon as they immersed themselves into their sanctuary, Jossy seemed to remember everything that happened before. Or at least her body did because truth be said: she was acting on instinct alone; like she was under a spell – unable to rescind the forces that drew her and Lôghan together. She never wanted to anyway! There was no way she would deny herself or her lover the pleasure of their joining. Two hearts, two souls, two bodies – moving in perfect harmony, becoming one. Inseparable!

And yet – on the first day of the waning moon, when they had to leave their glen – things had to come to an end.

They rode home in silence. Lucifer – walking at a snail’s pace – seemed to sense the impending cataclysm.

‘I can’t let her go!’ – ‘But you have to!’ Lôghan’s inner demons and angels fought an age-old epic battle.

But – of course – he couldn’t keep her at his cottage. Lyl Shadowspawn would come and take him. And then what? There was no way of telling what would become of Jossy, should she still be in the Darkwoods. She might never be able to find her way home without him. So, no! Keeping Jossy was not an option. One more night was all they had left.

Lôghan drew the evening out far into the night. Delayed the inevitable, until his lover was too tired to keep her eyes open. He picked her up and took her to bed, wrapped her into his embrace, and kissed her good-night. Only once Jossy’s breathing was deep and even and her closed eyelids fluttered watching the images of her dreams, would he allow himself to moan his impending loss and cry for the future he could never have.

Jossy woke with a start! It was pitch dark. Disorientated and frightened, it took her a few seconds to get her bearings. Lôghan’s cottage! Lôghan’s bed… she was cradled in his arms. Her lover stirred – restless in his sleep. He moaned and when she turned in his arms to face him, take his face into her hands to soothe him, she could feel hot tears running down his cheek.

“Lôghan, my love… what is it?” she whispered and kissed them away. She snuggled up to her lover’s warm body, and her eyes closed. Half-asleep, fragments of the previous days and nights in the Enchanted Glen drifted through her mind like gossamer tendrils of a dream long gone. In her sleep-hazed state, she realised, that – come dawn – she would have forgotten all about the man and their love for each other.

When Jossy woke, she screamed!

Lôghan wanted to die! And that was precisely what was going to happen, once Lyl Shadowspawn made it out of her witch’s lair to get him.

The witch was in no haste – Lôghan had nowhere to hide, and the spell had not been broken. Plenty of time to get the king! Let him savour his beloved’s company for a bit longer! It would only add to his heartbreak and make Lyl’s victory that much sweeter.

⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜

Lôghan lifted Jossy slowly onto his horse before he mounted Lucifer to sit behind her.

“Hang on, Princess,” he said and banded his arm around Jossy’s waist. The sound of her sucking in the crisp morning air was music to his ears! She felt it too! After all – she felt it! Sure, she didn’t remember, but she would meet him in her dreams. Slowly – committing every second of their last ride to memory – Lôghan steered Lucifer toward the edge of the forest, from where he would watch Jossy disappeared from sight and out of his life. Never from his heart, though! Never from his heart… The oppressive clouds of a heartbreaking and foreboding farewell hung low over his head.

When they reached the hill overlooking her village, Jossy prepared to slide off his horse.

“Look! What is this?” She pointed out the pitch-black wall of a thunderstorm in the distance. Ice-coloured lightning flashed inside the fast-approaching front. Lôghan knew! It was the witch, riding in on a storm, coming to enslave him forever.

Bottomless sadness overcame Lôghan. He embraced his princess, who still sat in front of him, one last time and whispered into her ear, “I will never forget you.”

His words sliced through Jossy like a dagger made of fire and ice.

As she slid off the horse, she noticed a knot in the hem of her chemise, and she immediately knew it was meant to remind her of something important. But what? Curious, she opened the knot and saw the warrior-king’s name written on the fabric of her chemise. She blinked. Once, twice. She couldn’t make sense of why she would have Lôghan’s name written down like a precious poem, on the hem of her chemise. She lifted her head, eyes wide and met his gaze. There was something she needed to remember… In her sleep-infused state, she must have written his name down with a piece of coal and then protected it inside a knot she made into the hem of her chemise… to remember something precious – something worth remembering...

Magic! Beauty! Love!

Lyl Shadowspawn stood triumphantly like a gladiator on a chariot, rolling in on the thunderous wall of clouds, which blotted out the sun and sent an icy wind as their herald. The bastion of impending doom stopped in front of the couple. Evil tendrils of black, acrid-smelling vapours undulated toward them, getting ready to grab the warrior-king.

Quercia, the wood nymph and Alba, the white witch hunkered low behind a bush, which got battered by the furious winds and kept their fists stuffed into their mouths to keep them from making any noise.

“STOP!” Joselyne’s voice rang loud and clear.

The evil witch was so perplexed that she did just that.

“I remember everything! I remember every single kiss, each night we spent in the Enchanted Glen. I even remember waking up not remembering...” Jossy looked at her king from wide, fearful eyes. “I love you,” she said. “And you love me...”

“I do.” He nodded, unable to say any more because his throat constricted with emotions he had no words for.

The mountains of thunderclouds expanded and inflated like a hot-air balloon on Tournament Day. And like a hot-air balloon, Lyl Shadowspawn took off, and her disappearance left behind a bright, sunny winter’s day.

Quercia clapped her hands enthusiastically. She was just seconds away from sticking two fingers into her mouth to release a sharp whistle when Alba closed her hand over the wood nymph's mouth.

“Are you mad? What if they hear us?”

“Who cares?” Quercia jumped up and down with joy and pointed excitedly in the direction of Jossy and Lôghan. They were kissing. And by the looks of it, there was more to come.

“So much passion...” Quercia sighed, and her eyes moistened.

Alba grabbed Quercia’s sleeve and dragged the diminutive wood nymph into the forest.

The evil witch – if not dead – was at least defeated.

The princess got her warrior-king in the end.

Old King Leonhardt approved of his son-in-law and heir to his throne.

And of course, Jossy and Lôghan lived happily ever after.

...and just imagine the many beautiful babies they made, and how much fun they had with their creations ;-)

The End

ANK on The incredible joy of receiving positive R.E.V.I.E.W.S.

Every writer - or any artist for that matter - who puts themselves "out there" for others to scrutinize knows just how important it is to receive R.E.V.I.E.W.S.

Often, a dreaded word, spoken in a hushed voice and only behind closed doors, it is a nail-biting experience to read, what others think of your work.
And we are not just talking about any old reviews. We want good reviews.
For writers/authors/novelists we are talking 4- and 5-star reviews on #Amazon, #Goodreads, and any other reader-powered platform.

Apart from the star-spangled appearance, the review should also give future readers an insight into why they should bother reading a specific book.
Reviews can make or break a novel. They are akin to a compass for readers to find your book

And the readers are in Charge (please note, that I am using a capital C on purpose here).

I could write like Terry Pratchett*, or tell stories like the legendary Scheherazade** - who so skillfully managed to make a twisted emperor fall in love with her through the stories she told him in 1001 Arabian Nights. But if I cannot make my readers fall in love with my stories, they will not talk about it, or worse, they will write a less than favorable review. Word will not spread, and nobody will want to read my books.

* and **
Please note, that I am by no means delusional. I do not think for a second I am anywhere near to either Pratchett or Scheherazade!

Please visit my author pages on Goodreads and Amazon, or get in touch via email at anathea.krrill@gmail.com or connect on Twitter and IG @anatheakrrill 

The Ghost of a Story

Dear fellow author,

Did you ever read a story and thought, "Damn it! This is so close to what I wrote months/years/eons ago, and mine isn't not even been published yet!"
Pure coincidence if it happens once, right? What do you think if it happens twice, thrice, or four times? What if different pieces of work paint a complete picture of your main character?
Are we - as authors - stuck in a collective rut? Are we unimaginative beyond belief? Could we not come up with something - well - different?
Or is our precious Muse a promiscuous bitch kissing more than one author with the same fervor? Is the elusive Muse really nothing but a ghost? A haunting? An unfinished story; a remnant of energy wanting to materialize?

Even the names of the MCs are sometimes the same! Now... they might not be particularly uncommon names. Still...
Is a paranormal hand guiding our fingers across the keyboard? Is our mind possessed by an almost-material idea? Can we avoid it at all, or do we have to go along like puppets on a string?

I wonder if you encountered the same.
Does it dishearten you? Does it spur you on to elevate your story?

Or do you think it's part of writing and re-writing stories? Fresh takes on old favorites. Painting the evil witch in a new light.

Let me know what you think & thanks for reading this.

FIRST WINTER FLASH BLOG BATTLE

Let the #winterflashblogbattle commence!

Hosted by Michael R Kiel

The mission?

To create a DRABBLE 

...which is a short story comprising 50 - 100 words.

Enjoy! 

Check out the host's website

Michael R. Kiel Fiction for more details and other interesting stuff, or visit Michael's IG account @michaelrkielfictions

The picture prompt

I block out the dull 'boom' of grenades exploding. Shrapnel is stirring the air as splinters whistle past my head. The world around me is disintegrating. If I just keep my eyes closed. If I don't listen. If...
Lyla thrusts something into my hands. Round, smooth, faintly smelling of winternights. Of apple and cinnamon.
Mulled wine and spice. My eyes fly open. A snowglobe! Dainty and so misplaced in this bloodsoaked world, it steals my breath. I. Can't. Breathe! It sucks the air from my lungs. Slurps me into its diamond skin. Until I am inside. Safe once more... 

For those of you who don't know me.
I am a writer of speculative fiction. Which is essentially an umbrella term for anything non-existent. I love to blend science fiction and fantasy, and because I am a sucker for a good love story, my novels are generously seasoned with elements of romance. But I am not strictly speaking a romance writer.
And I love reading and get pretty much stuck into anything that grips my imagination, no matter the genre.