Weekend Writing Warriors ~ Traitor

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Welcome to another round of Weekend Writing Warriors.  I’m sharing from a scene in my m/m fantasy, Masters and Mages 3: Curse of Salar.  This week’s snippet picks up immediately from last week’s.  Prince Dezra has challenged the much more experienced soldier, Captain Rayn Nevar, to a match of shibar.  What started out as good, dirty fun quickly turns more serious.

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Nevar grinned. “Congratulations, Prince Dezra, you do know something of the shibar after all.”

“I know to never trust an Armazin traitor,” Dezra said and attacked as Nevar froze with shock. Nevar just managed to bring down his shibar and keep Dezra’s blade from “entering” his heart. As it was, Dezra struck him hard in the ribs before dancing away. “There’s your cracked rib for you, Captain,” Dezra said, his voice icy. One of his advantages had always been the ability to intimidate, and it seemed that Nevar was not as immune as he’d like to be.

“Bruised but not cracked. You’ll have to try much harder than that.” Nevar advanced, twirled his shibar in an irritatingly fancy manner, and attacked again, this time going for Dezra’s midsection before thrusting upward for the neck.

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CurseOfSalarFinalIn the desert kingdom of Jahar, the rule of mages has been overthrown and the line of sorcerer kings wiped out. Prince Dezra and his sister are the last living members of the royal family and are held prisoners in their ancestral palace.

Prince Dezra lives a life of lies and deceit. In order to stay alive, he must pretend to be a drug-addicted wastrel, trusting no one, isolated from even his sister who has chosen to cooperate with the government that executed their parents.

Into his lonely existence comes a man who should be his sworn enemy; Captain Rayn Nevar. Dezra is irresistibly drawn to the rough soldier and his longing for a simple sexual encounter quickly morphs into a dangerous obsession.

Captain Rayn Nevar knows he should stay far away from Prince Dezra, but his desire for the beautiful young man overrides all common sense. Despite the fact that Dezra’s ancestors destroyed Rayn’s family, the captain finds himself in a position of protecting the prince from the many schemers who believe the last of the mages should be annihilated.

When treachery leads to Dezra’s escape, he is at last free to bond with the serpent god Ka’alar and develop his long repressed powers. Only the arrival of a mysterious monk with powers greater than Dezra’s stops the prince from using black sorcery to destroy all who stand in his way, including Rayn.

As Jahar edges toward another war between masters and mages, Rayn must question his devotion to his increasingly deadly lover while Dezra must decide if ultimate power is worth the ultimate sacrifice.

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This post is part of an ongoing blog hop hosted by Weekend Writing Warriors. Every Sunday, participating authors post eight to ten sentences from a published work or perhaps their current work in progress. Then we hop to our fellow warriors’ blogs and check out all the fabulous fiction that’s happening! I heartily invite you to participate as a reader, writer, or both. It’s a great way to discover your next favorite book. Click here or use the address: http://www.wewriwa.com

Weekend Writing Warriors ~ Pandemonium

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Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop, the one stop hop for all your fiction needs.  This week I’m continuing with snippets from my erotic m/m space opera (how many descriptors can one novel need?) From Mars, With Love.  Last week things were getting unpleasant in the slave ship when Eli’s captors decided to cut the ring off his finger.  Today, for good or ill, Eli decides to be proactive.

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A pair of cutting shears emerged from the end of one of the crab’s arms- this was enough to wipe away all of Eli’s hesitations. He’d been pulling back against the crab’s tugs and abruptly stopped, using the bots momentum to direct its arm and pincher into its faceplate. The plastic cracked on impact and the eyeball tube bent sideways as the metal pincer struck it. Eli leapt on top of the crab, slid across its back and hit the floor hands first. He tucked, rolled, and came up in a crouch. Four security crabs raced towards him.

The Moon Unit grabbed an arm of the bot Eli had disabled and swung it around in a semi-arc before it fired its thrusters and sent itself careening into one of its mates. Pandemonium broke out as half the prisoners joined in the uprising, and half fell to the floor either begging forgiveness or merely covering their heads with their hands or hand-like appendages.

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I'm hoping this is a gun.

I’m hoping this is a gun and not a fancy waffle iron.

This post is part of an ongoing blog hop hosted by Weekend Writing Warriors. Every Sunday, participating authors post eight sentences from a published work or perhaps their current work in progress. Then we hop to our fellow warriors’ blogs and check out all the fabulous fiction that’s happening! I heartily invite you to participate as a reader, writer, or both. It’s a great way to discover your next favorite book. Click here or use the address: http://www.wewriwa.com