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Sample Scene: P.O.D. Book One #2

This is pulled from the middle of the book and contains spoilers.

Sample Scene of P.O.D. Book 1

Dragoon snarled as he slammed the door, fastening the bolt into place with a barely muffled curse. He stared at the treasure for a moment, running his fingers over the rich carvings that decorated its surface. The Healers' tentss was among the only four to bear such a wondrously rare thing as a wooden door. Two belonging to the Head Councilman, the last on Dragoon’s personal tents. They had been common in his home village, but here they were a sign of wealth and stature. So he had carved both himself and hung them in place. Marking his station for all to see. His own residence had boasted one since he had joined the Akore, the Healers' tentss earning its own when he took over. High ranking indeed, all of his carefully laid plans could come crashing down around him if Maleana felt any suspicion of him now.
He turned on his heels to see Vasant standing over the fool girl, his thin, nimble fingers brushing hair away from her brow. His face as tender as if he was about to plant a kiss upon her still lips. He cleared his throat, a sound half bark, half growl, and his nephew stood up with a start.

“You fool! What is it you think you are doing? She could have seen you lurking in the shadows as you were, your lust is so palatable it brings a stench to the very air!” Vasant bowed his head, acknowledging Dragoon as his superior. He felt no small amount of pride at the action and he loathed himself for it. He had been too long away from his people if he felt authority is earned over a welp such as the boy.

“Forgive me, I had no idea… I was not told she was so stunning, uncle, her beauty has caught me off guard indeed. I fear I could not help myself. And her body… how splendidly it shone in the light of the fire, her curves… There is no doubt of the splendor of this girl. I am more and more glad that it was I chosen for this assignment. Yes indeed.” Dragoon snorted at the moonstruck look on the lad’s face, at how his hand trembled just above the girl’s bosom, the longing clear in his very stance. He had no doubt what would have transpired had he not been present. He chuckled at the thought, one corner of his thin lips pulling back into a smirk. Yes, there was no questioning the fact that the Dreamer was a visual prize. Her curves deep, her form slim but strong, just the right height, face a work of art. She even had the perfect amount of scars, paint upon her beautiful canvas of a body. She was the most beautiful out of all of the Akore women, there was no doubt about that. She was perhaps even more gorgeous than the women he had known in his old village.
But her spirit… to a man such as him it was not a pleasing thing. She was independent, defiant, wild, free. She bowed to none, she would stand aside for nothing. The tribe thought her cowed from their hatred, they could not have been farther from the truth. It was true she may think of herself as broken, but when the time came she would lash out against them all. She was proud, a lioness in the brush. No, he preferred his women docile, demure, fearful. She was the opposite in every way of what he sought in a woman and he was sure his nephew would feel much the same way he did. Vasant would not be so pleased when she finally did awaken.

“While we are on the subject, what exactly is it the Elders wish changed? They sent me as a boy to find the elder Dreamer, to woo her. I followed her to this place, took up a position in the tribe to win her heart. How was I to know she would fall for their fool King instead? What was he compared to myself? When the Elders were told they commanded I kill the lovers instead. I slew the elder Dreamer and her fool of a King, the Wiseman and his wife, the old head Healer and her husband, the head Protector. I laid the paving stones one by one, lead them right into my clutches. Made it seem the fault of the Squalls. I have lead all of the old Council to their doom one by one since, all but Maleana. Even her husband’s blood lay upon my hands, though I will admit he was the most difficult of them all. He fought well until the very end, his lover’s name on his lips as I slit his throat. His blood drenched me! Bright and red! As hot as his passion for life had been! I hunted him down like an animal! All that was left was the old crone and the four welps! The boy disappeared of his own accord, surely dead by this time, the twins will meet their fate soon! I trapped the Dreamer within a web of my own design! I was to take her to the Elders within the fortnight! Why have they changed their plans after all of these years? My life has been wasted for their will alone!” Dragoon snarled, fighting the surge of adrenaline that flowed through his veins. Not now. No. Not now. He could not afford to show the boy he lacked control. Not now!

His eyes snapped open as his nephew tossed a small, silver capped vial at him. Dragoon snatched it from the air, looking for the barest moment down at the small bottle. It was thick crystal, etched with runes and designs. The liquid inside was so cold it froze him through the thick walls, the fluid a pulsing red that seemed to burn. Dragoon did not take the time to fiddle with the stopper, instead breaking the neck of the vial and tipping the mixture into his throat. It burned like fire as it slid down his throat, coating his stomach with its flames. Within the beat of a heart the drumming in his ears subsided, the red mist clearing from his vision. The rage left him as though it had never been, a dull anger in its place. He sighed, leaning heavily upon his desk as he trembled, looking up at his nephew from below lowered brows. The welp had the audacity to smile at him.

“No need to Transverto, uncle, be calm, be at peace, Tranquillus. All of your work is for the best, it all fits into their plans. It is merely the last step that has been… modified. I am to win the heart of the Dreamer, she will take us to her people of her own accord.” His nephew grinned, his teeth growing sharp as his irises shifted to a dark, deep amber. “Out of love for her betrothed she will betray her own kinsfolk.”

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