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EXCERPT
An
Excerpt From: FIGHTING LADY JAYNE
Copyright © MICHELLE M.
PILLOW, 2009
All Rights
Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Ronen endeavored to slow his racing heart. Never in the
history of his people had a woman stood up and announced her choice. But today,
at this ceremony, it had happened to him. Lady Jayne chose to be his wife. She
chose him. She wanted him. And she didn’t hesitate, or doubt, or hold back. She
sang her desire to the world, stroking his masculine pride for all to see.
Perhaps the gods knew he’d hesitate to say the words himself and gave her voice
to initiate the claim. Either way, she belonged to him.
Ronen grinned. Mine.
The war gods smiled upon him for his deeds in battle
and rewarded him with a gorgeous woman with an animalistic appetite to fuel his.
He’d felt the envious eyes of the others as he whisked his new bride away to his
chambers in the Mace Tower. None would dare to touch her, no matter how much
they wanted to.
He breathed deeply, panting as if it had taken all his
strength to walk the winding stairwell. Already he could envision tearing the
clothes from her body, finding the soft womanly flesh, those secret crevices and
gentle slopes only a lover could touch. He tried not to let his eagerness show,
but he found himself slamming the door shut behind him.
“I hope this meets with my lady’s approval.” Ronen
motioned around his tower room. None of the Starian
men took pains to decorate their chambers and he was no different. A few
necessary staples graced the room—a large bed with thick fur blankets, a
weapons’ wall to display and hold the majority of his belongings, the fireplace,
a thickly cushioned chair and a trunk for his belongings. He motioned toward the
far door next to his bed. “That door leads to your room.”
“You live here?” she asked, her voice losing some of
the smoky seduction of before.
“When I am here,” he answered. “Normally I live at the
battlefront or at Firewall Castle, my family home, before it burnt to the
ground.”
“Firewall burnt down?” Her mouth twisted slightly and
he wasn’t sure he appreciated the humor she seemed to find at the irony.
He stiffened defensively. “It will be rebuilt when the
resources can be spared.”
Jayne’s face sobered and she nodded, guarding her
expression from him. Instantly, the playfulness came back and he realized it was
a practiced look, a defense, a way to hide her true emotions from the world
around her. He wondered at it and opened his mouth to speak, but her words
stopped him.
“This will do, I’ve stayed in worse.” She made a show
of walking around his room, touching his things with the delicate tips of her
fingers. Each seductive brush sent an erotic shiver over his flesh, as if she
marked all he was as her own. She ran her index finger over the long center
indent of a sword. When she reached the end, she jerked her finger away, making
a small noise of surprise. She stuck the digit between her lips and sucked.
Ronen nearly came undone at the sight.
“Sharp,” she whispered around her finger, indicating
she’d cut herself.
Firelight caressed her every move, casting shadows in
stark relief across her face. The orange glow caught up in her eyes, giving them
a temptress’s gleam. He swallowed over the hard lump in his throat. She didn’t
look away and for the first time in Ronen’s life he felt helpless.
“You have a lot of weapons.” Jayne let the finger slip
from her lips as she stepped brazenly toward him. Ronen couldn’t move, could
barely breathe. “Are they decoration or do you know how to use them?”
“Men must be…” His breathing deepened and he could
barely concentrate to answer as her eyes glanced to the bed and back again. It
had been so long since he’d been with a woman. The camp followers were few and
the number of men they serviced were many. “Must be
prepared for battle.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Lord Ronen. I asked
if you knew how to wield your weapons.” She smiled,
an achingly seductive look. The white material of her gown clung to her breasts,
teasing him as it hid her body from view. A strand of inky black hair fell over
her smooth cheek. Every thought in his head centered on the hard heat of his
cock. Never had it felt so full and thick, practically throbbing for attention.
Ronen nodded. “Yea, of course. I have held a sword
since the night I was born and…”
Sanity left him. How could he think with her lips so
close, so full and lush? How could he concentrate when every breath brought him
the scent of a clean field, untouched by bloodshed? Never had a woman chosen him
above all others. Sure, the camp followers enjoyed his bed on those rare moments
he’d been in their company, but he was one of many to them. Lady Jayne chose him
to be her one and the very idea of it spun his brain around in his head.
She touched the middle of his chest. It was just a
gentle fingertip but enough to send a shiver over his entire frame. Jayne ran
the caress down his tunic, just like she had with the sword blade. Reaching his
waist, she stopped right next to his erection. “All your weapons?”
He tilted his jaw down in affirmation, realizing what
she’d meant. Her hand cupped his cock, wrapping it tight though the material of
his tunic and breeches. Ronen balled his hands into fists, curious to see what
she’d do next.
“Yea,” he managed, completely disarmed.
Jayne licked her lips and tugged at her gown. She
pulled the material over her head, inching it slowly up. Strong, tan calves grew
into perfect thighs. Tradition dictated that she’d be naked under the gown and
he waited with bated breath to see the apex revealed. Naked, shaved flesh or
soft black curls?
Absently, he tugged at the laces on his shoulder to
loosen his tunic. The gown moved higher and his fingers stopped. Short curls
formed into a strip to guard her sex, greeting him. Sleek muscles and rounded
hips tapered to a flat stomach. With a deft swoop, she jerked the gown over her
head. Breasts bobbed at the motion, a perfect handful. Dusky, round nipples
puckered in the firelight, erect and begging for attention.
“Prove it,” she ordered.
Ronen sprung into action, happy to obey. As he shoved
his long tunic aside and tore at the laces to his breeches, she backed into the
bed. He followed her, his pants falling over his boots to trap his feet. Jayne
gasped, her eyes going to his full arousal.
No thoughts beyond the driving need to feel the warmth
of her wet pussy passed through his mind. He needed her. He wanted her. He had
to be inside her. Now.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the
author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living
persons or events is merely coincidence.
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REVIEWS
4.5 Nymphs! "Michelle M. Pillow’s
characters are full of wit, charm, and sensual qualities. ... recommend Fighting Lady Jayne to those who
enjoy knights who know how to treat their woman and the woman who keep them
on their toes." -Literary Nymphs Reviews, June 2009
4.5 Stars! "Ms. Pillow again gifts us with a strong and
capable woman who shows determination in her decisions to follow her heart
and her mind by loving the sexy and devoted man who has claimed her. This
series is an example of true love at first sight between courageous women
and the warrior men who love them." Bitten by Books, December 2009
4 Angels! "Michelle M. Pillow has done a fabulous job of
continuing the Divinity Warriors series with Fighting Lady Jayne. ...Ms.
Pillow gives us a whole new world to discover with unique characters and an
explosive story will have readers running back for more. Fighting Lady Jayne
is a fast-paced fantasy romance that will take readers on a wild ride. I
truly enjoyed Fighting Lady Jayne and I cannot wait to see what will happen
next in this series." Sonya, Fallen Angel Reviews
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