The fate of the Ceyan people—in the hands of an Earthling Supermodel?
A strange ailment is slowly wiping out the Ceyan people of planet H’trae. Willing to do anything to save his people, King Rohman sends his brother, Prince Thane, to the Ancient Ones. Prince Thane brings back a proposal. The Ancient Ones will help—for a price.
In exchange for the whereabouts of the last remaining The’Rans, a people known for their great healing powers, the royal brothers must take the The’Ran women as their brides. To Rohman’s astonishment, the last remaining The’Rans are on an unheard-of planet called Earth. What’s more, these The’Ran women have no knowledge of their legacy.
Supermodel Raven Storm has it all—beauty, fame, and fortune. Yet she longs to find some meaningful purpose to her life. With each passing day she grows more and more disenchanted. Her nights are filled with hot, steamy dreams of a dark-haired winged man—the kind of man dreams are made of. After a particularly bad photo shoot, Raven makes up her mind to walk away from the modeling business. She doesn’t get far before she’s taken prisoner by two drop dead gorgeous men—one of whom looks exactly like her dream lover!
On H’trae, Raven learns she is expected to participate in the Feast of the Flesh, taking one of the royal brothers as her husband. There is only one man she will accept as her mate—King Rohman’s youngest brother, Prince Thane, her dream lover. Thane makes it quite clear that she belongs to him, but will King Rohman surrender his right to the bride of his choice in the face of their love?
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The Feast of Flesh
The’Ran home world, Tiearen
“Where in H’trae is Dyshira? If she is not brought before me at once, someone will pay.” Prince Garm the Fierce, son of Kasper, heir to the throne of Zerus, surveyed the naked, trembling women who stood in a line for his inspection. His wings flapped behind him in short angry motions. “Where is she?”
The Chief Elder, Bulbo the Wise, head of the council and Dyshira’s father, finally spoke up. “Your Highness, Dyshira is promised to another. She cannot be included in this ceremony.”
“You’re lying, old man.”
“I w-would never l-lie to you, your H-Highness.”
“Save your breath. Do you think me stupid?”
“No, your Highness, but you see, Dyshira…”
“You dare defy the sacred covenant? You dare defy me?” No one had ever denied him anything. “I am Prince Garmonian Rohar Barloz, heir to the throne of Zerus.” Garm’s face grew hot with fury as he glared at the smaller man. “I want Dyshira brought before me at once.”
“Your Highness, we do not wish to anger you, but we have fulfilled our end of the covenant as agreed upon by our ancestors many moons ago. Before you are twenty of our comeliest women, each gifted with powers of the light.”
Garm sensed the older man’s fear despite his brave words. The look in Bulbo’s dark brown eyes gave him away. “Is Dyshira not the comeliest wench among your women?”
“Yes, your Highness.”
“Is she not holder of the great power?”
Bulbo became evasive. “What do you mean, your Highness? All The’Ran women hold powers of the light.”
“I know of her powers. She is the one I want.” He’d known since the first time he’d seen her…
Garm had first glimpsed Dyshira two H’trae years before while on a trade mission with his father. He’d seen her at the enchanted Falls of Tiearen, standing naked in the spray of water… a sight he’d never forget.
* * *
Garm studied the nymph in the waterfall, his loins filling with lust. Her long dark braids cascaded down the elegant curve of her back. Every feature of her mahogany face was perfect, from her high cheekbones to her huge brown eyes and full, bow-shaped lips. The small tilt of her nose finished off the masterpiece of her face. His cock stirred at the very sight of her.
Garm’s mouth watered as he took in her rounded buttocks, full, firm breasts crowned with nipples the color of blackberries, slender waist, flared into rounded hips, and the thick patch of hair resting above her woman’s treasure. He wanted her right then and there. He was ready to throw the tiny beauty to the ground and thrust his aching shaft into her tight virgin pussy.
He saw the distress in her lovely eyes when she spotted him, but he didn’t care. She dashed to the side of the waterfall to grab her clothing, but Garm was quicker. He grabbed her by the braids and pulled her to him.
“Please do not harm me, Ceyan.” Her eyes widened in fear.
Garm lifted her up into his arms so that they were eye level. “You are Dyshira?”
“How do you know of me, Ceyan?”
“Surely you have heard the stories of your own beauty.”
“They are of no interest to me.”
“Regardless of how you feel, I am pleased the stories are true. You shall be mine.” His grip tightened. He could almost taste her fear, and he liked it.
“Put me down, Ceyan.” Dyshira struggled against him.
“I am Prince Garm, son of Kasper, heir to the throne of Zerus. I shall claim you in the next ceremony of the sacred covenant.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I will never consent to marry you. There is evil in your heart.”
“It matters not what you want. You will be my queen.” He brought his mouth down upon her soft lips, tongue stabbing forward. She tasted so good.
She tried to twist her head away but one fist came up to grip her hair, keeping her head immobile. He ignored her tears, wanting her too much to care.
Dyshira struggled against him, but her meager strength could not match his. She planted her small hands against his broad muscular chest to push him away.
Feeling a sudden tingling in his chest, Garm looked down to see his flesh glowing underneath her hands. He released his hold, letting her escape. The scar that had once marked Garm’s chest was no longer there. Dyshira must possess the great power, a very rare gift. He would claim her, and her power.
* * *
Now, two years later, as he stood before the council, Garm refused to be deterred again. “If Dyshira is not brought before me at once, we will withdraw our protection from your people. I shall claim her, in any event. Do you give her to me willingly or must I take her by force?”
Loud gasps of outrage went throughout the crowd. The sacred covenant took place every two H’trae years. In exchange for protection from the Shadow People, the The’Rans offered their women as mates to the Ceyans. To withdraw their protection from Tiearen would mean the doom of the The’Ran people.
A voice called out. “I am here.” Dyshira stepped forward, her head held high and carriage regal. “Do not withdraw your protection, Ceyan. I surrender to your will.”