Mistress of the Wild
Daughters of the Dagda: Book 4
Mainstream Romance: Interracial/Multicultural, Contemporary
Cover Artist: Shirley Burnett
Editor: Red Rose™ Publishing
Line Editor: Red Rose™ Publishing
Word Count: 29,074
Release Date: July 16, 2009
Phoebe, the Mistress of the Wild, protector of untamed beasts, orphans and society’s cast-offs, quickly falls under the enchantments of Africa’s magical Okavango Delta and a black wilderness guide named Peter. But the timeless magic is quickly overshadowed by her tormented visions . . . visions of betrayal and danger.
Peter is sure that the prophecies of the Wise Ones are coming true. Suddenly confronted with rogue elephants, problem leopards, venomous snakes and bush fires, Peter, who knows the Delta like the back of his hand, believes that the darkest threats are those that invade his dreams. Though irresistibly beautiful, Phoebe, the white huntress, might be the very demon of the prophecies of the Wise Ones . . . the woman who will end his life.
Into the darkness, Phoebe and Peter will be drawn into the clutches of her father’s treacherous enemy.
Cornered by supernatural soldiers of evil and the echoes of betrayal that enslaved her people thousands of years ago, can they defy the prophecies and forge a powerful union that will change the world?
Phoebe’s eyes were focused on his face. She lifted her head and brushed her lips against his.
He gasped in surrender. All at once, he felt the incredible urge to be one with her again, now and always. He took a deep breath, trying to sort out his thoughts. He could hear her breathing, he could sense her wanting. If he kissed her again, he knew he would be lost, perhaps forever, for he wanted to possess her.
He gave into his desires again, pushing away the yellow eyes of the demons, pushing away the prophecies and premonitions of doom. He kissed her deeply and suddenly they played a symphony together, black skin on white, like keys of a piano working in sync, lifting sweet harmony from the ebony and the ivory.
Phoebe’s body molded to his. It grew hungry as he touched her, bringing out the fire. He undressed her slowly, his mouth shaped itself to hers and he caressed her breasts, her shoulders, her legs. In moments, she felt the dampness between her legs as if she were weeping with desire for him. His body, long and strong, nestled between her legs as he gently lowered her on the bed, and he joined with her.
Ecstasy blazed in her. Stunned, she felt herself swell to engulf him. There was a power between them, a magic in their union, and she knew what the nightmares meant. It was this very power that the enemies of the gods and goddesses feared. It was the power of the two of them as one. There was strength in this, a promise of a new beginning. The dreams, the omens of which Peter spoke were not sent by her gods or his but by the dark powers that sought to destroy them.
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