Under the dark skies of Vranthia The Wasting has spread, claiming victims by the thousands. Disease, madness and death shroud this fierce warrior race.

With the recent death of their mother, Queen Srionna Balacjek, and the imminent demise of their grieving father, King Kamet; three brothers must now find their own path. Will The Wasting’s dark madness claim them all as deceit and lies turn brother against brother. Or, is the key to saving their people in the legend of the trion. And will they find it in time?

Draven Balacjek -- warrior, Prince, immortal. Fierce in battle, sure and deadly as a dark a storm or the shadows he walks among, must choose between the ties of brotherhood or the possibility of a life without the parts of his soul he has bound in blood and magic.

The Vranthians have taken everything from Ook. Desecrated the Darengy people as a whole. But the visions of a grave-warrior tell no lies and the spirit of the human along with the fierce strength of his Prince, Draven Balacjek call to him as nothing before. Can their love together heal the wounds that time has wrought and free him of his darkness?

For singer, Leah Allen, the choice was never hers to make. But life, like the music her heart clings to, has a way of playing itself out. Will this strange new world and the fierce warriors she meets within it bring her shattered past the healing she has always needed or will the strangers she finds herself bound to be her hearts undoing? Can she make a choice between dark, intense Draven and exotic, muscular Ook?

Does she HAVE to choose?

Bound To You
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Cover Art by Fiona Jayde

Leah knew the date was over five minutes before it had even begun. Really, when was she going to learn her lesson? Never let your friends and co-workers set you up on blind dates. It was a rule. Or should have been. Or would be from now on, damn it. What the hell had she been thinking?
It was bad enough that the normal crowd that gathered at McKellon’s Pub on Wednesday nights was usually the business conference leftovers, or that they were mostly in their late fifties and on their third marriage or second mistress. But this guy…this guy just screamed slimy used-car salesman. He even had that comb-over thing going for him.
Ugh! Was Cyn trying to get back at her for something or what? She had just finished her second set--she sang four nights a week, mostly the blues, for tip money and the door fee to help make ends meet--when her friend Cyn told her that the date she’d agreed to was at the bar waiting for her. Then Cyn tilted her head to the left of the bar where car-guy, Bob, sat sucking an olive pick, poking it between his teeth like he was digging for gold or a new route to China.
The nausea started after one quick glance. “Cyn, you cannot be serious,” Leah questioned, her groan curling her lip in distaste. “What? What do you mean?” Cyn quizzically responded scanning the bar, her dark almond eyes shining brightly against the backdrop of her caramel skin. Cyn was the loveliest woman Leah had ever met. She had a deep, rich skin tone that looked like milky caramels. Her eyes were like large, dark almonds, and her lips were a perfectly sculpted pout. In a word, beautiful.
She even wore her hair shaved so short to her head that it showed her face to perfection. But, by the tone in her voice, Leah could tell she was completely bewildered by her statement. Not to mention a little hurt, as though Leah had run over her puppy, her Gucci handbag and her cell phone all at the same time. Drama! “Seriously, Cyn. Are you freaking kidding me? You set me up on a date with serial killer Joe over there? I mean, look at him. Mr. Comb-over? The dude picking his teeth?”
Cyan’s bark of laughter startled Leah so badly she jumped, and when she looked back at her friend she was bent over, holding her side, laughing so hard tears were running down her face. “Jeez, Leah,” she finally gasped. “What kind of friend do you take me for? I know it’s been a dry spell for ya, but ain’t nobody that desperate, girl,” she hiccupped.
“Glad I could be so amusing,” Leah huffed, blowing the length of her dark hair from her eyes. “So if it’s not Greasy Bob, then who? Cyn stood up straight and taking Leah’s arm, pulled her over behind a column that had obviously been blocking her view. Sitting on the last bar stool, back up against the wall, Leah spotted Mr. Perfect.

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