Publication Date: October 2013
From Goodreads:
At fifteen, Anaii is the most important member of her tribe—and the most mysterious. Ever since Anaii can remember, the spirits of the wind have whispered of fertile hunting grounds and imminent enemy attacks. But when her people are ambushed by a brother clan without any apparent cause, the spirits remain eerily silent.
As the village prepares to retaliate, Anaii is pressured by her best friend, Elan, to marry him. It’s an old plea—Elan has spent a lifetime loving her, but Anaii only sees a childhood playmate out of an imposing warrior. Stifled by Elan’s insistence, Anaii escapes into the forest where she meets Jayttin, the beautiful son of the enemy chief.
Enamored by Jayttin’s carefree spirit and hope for peace, she repeatedly sneaks away to be with him, but when her deception is discovered, Elan is devastated. Pledging his lifelong affection, Elan gives her a passionate kiss, and Anaii begins to see her friend in a new light.
While Anaii is tormented over which man she must choose, the wind whispers of a new threat that could destroy both tribes. Only a union will afford a chance at survival, but the reality of that union is based on one thing—which man Anaii chooses to die
Excerpt:
I looked around cautiously before freezing at the sketchy outline of a muscular man partially hidden in the grass. A man! He was sprawled on his back and golden pink from too many hours in the sun. My heart pounded to see the unfamiliar pattern of a deer on his breechcloth. I had marched myself directly into the reach of a Zennite warrior!
I gingerly
took a step backwards, but to my horror, the man’s black eyes fluttered
open. I turned and hurled myself back across the meadow, just as the man
shot up and flew after me like a predatory bird. My muscles burned and
strained to lengthen the space between us, but getting away was hopeless.
I was not a challenge to even the young boys in the foot races.
After a few
powerful strides, the warrior tackled me to the ground, painfully grazing the
skin on my cheek. I wheezed a few times before my lungs filled with
air.
“A Chippoke?”
he asked between breaths.
I feverishly
punched and kicked to free myself. “Get—off—me!”
“Stop! I’m
not going to hurt you,” the warrior chuckled as he struggled to pin my arms and
legs.
His voice
was calm and pleasant, but lying was no different than breathing to a Zennite.
“I cannot
promise the same,” I wheezed as I fought.
“You’re a
bobcat,” he said with a laugh. “A bobcat with no teeth or claws.”
“Let me go!”
“I will when
you’re calm.”
Strong hands
held my wrists while his full weight pinned my torso against the earth.
Fighting him was as useless as running. “You are not a boy,” I spat
angrily, fully taking in my attacker. It was little comfort that he
didn’t look like a bloodthirsty killer. He was
admittedly handsome with an angular face and sleek black hair that
hung well past his shoulders. He was not as tall as Elan, but
his muscles were narrow and built for speed. There was something
different about his eyes too. They were as black as soot—very unlike the
brown woodsy colors from our tribe.
The warrior
smirked down at me. “My mother will be very surprised to hear that.
All this time she’s assumed…”
My face
heated, but I fiercely met his gaze. The Zenni were like wild dogs and
pumas—they could smell emotions. “What I meant was, you are a man, not a boy.”
“Oh, I see,
but you must understand, I’m not a man yet.”
“You must
understand I’m a squirrel! Get off! You’re hurting me!” I ordered with a useless
heave.
“No,” he
said with a smirk.
It was then
I realized I might die—right after I was lulled into a false sense of
security. My chest pounded as I searched for the killer’s weapon.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“I do not
feel like killing you just yet,” he said as his long hair swirled in
my face. Were we to play a game before he killed me?
“I am glad
the mood doesn’t strike you,” I snarled. The warrior studied me with a
drawn brow. Was he guessing that I was the forest witch? I didn’t
think I looked like a witch, but I wasn’t certain what one should look
like—evil at least.
“I don’t
understand something,” the warrior said. “Your eyes are blue—the blue of
an angry sky. Are you the daughter of a god?”
“Yes,” I
said, heaving against his weight again. “Now get off me, or my father
Achak will strike you dead with lightening.”
About the Author:
Krista has been writing since she was nine-years-old when she
scribbled out her first adolescent work entitled Merish, the completely
illogical but heartfelt story of a girl who was part mermaid, part fish. As a
young mother, Krista added to her repertoire some middle grade readers and
picture books she’s wary of mentioning.
In 2004, Krista began an intensive four year period working
part-time as a critical care nurse while homeschooling her four children.
During this hectic time, courses of writing were taught and learned, and rules
of syntax were scolded to memory. Ironically this period of study equipped
Krista with the tools she needed to enter the next phase of her writing
experience. Now equipped with the mysteries of the comma, Krista was ready to
tackle a much bigger project—a full fledged novel.
After the kids were enrolled in public school in 2009, it
occurred to Krista that there is an insatiable audience of women and girls who
want to read books filled with stories about true love. Convinced that there
was an unfulfilled audience waiting for what Krista loves to write—romance, she
sat down in the family’s dungeon, a.k.a. the basement, and began to furiously
type. In no time, her first novel was drying on crisp white paper.
Krista currently resides in Midlothian , Virginia
Blog/Website - Facebook - Twitter - Goodreads
No comments:
Post a Comment