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Dreamspell: The Witch Chronicles [MultiFormat]
eBook by Chandra Knight
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$4.99 |
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50% |
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50% |
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eBook Category: Erotica/Romance
eBook Description:  He needed her help. That much Mena knew from his touch, as it wrapped around her in her dreams. His soft, deep voice whispered to her in appeal, invading her senses. But, what could she--a very reluctant Witch--do for him, a powerful stranger who seemed to control the very elements that surrounded her? Keiran Donovan was desperate. He'd first reached--and loved--Mena on the ethereal plane. Now, because of his reckless desire, he had to bring her to him, if only to keep her safe. Otherwise, both risked losing their souls to the darkness that had followed him into her life. Maybe together, they could defeat the evil that grew around them.
eBook Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press, Published: 2006
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2006
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [529 KB], eReader (PDB) [121 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [83 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [76 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [113 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [139 KB], hiebook (KML) [243 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [155 KB], iSilo (PDB) [71 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [100 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [135 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [114 KB]
Words: 25035
Reading time: 71-100 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 1-59374-457-9
 
"Chandra Knight tempts readers with the first installment of what promises to be a highly erotic, imaginative series. The Witch Chronicles Book 1: Dreamspell has all the elements of a good story. There is passion, suspense, revenge, and the promise that this is just the beginning?The premise of the story is original and the telling unique. 5 Angels!"--Amanda, Fallen Angel Reviews
Prologue Come to me. The words washed over Mena with an urgency that set her heart pounding in a panic. Who are you? She shot the question into the ether, searching out the source of the commanding male presence that had taken over her dream, once again. I need you. Where are you? Mena's question hovered at the edges of her mind. No answer. I want to help, but ... a feeling of extreme warmth and protectiveness flooded her, swirling around her and drawing her upward. She was drifting above her own sleeping form. She struggled with the fear that invaded her mind. No! I can't ... The vortex that whispered like the wind released her, and she settled gently back into her body. When? the wind murmured. There's no time to waste. A touch like that of a cherished lover flowed over her, causing her heart to ache for something unknown. Mena. A sudden, new cold engulfed her, causing an icy shiver to shoot through her. You'll obey me! Get out! The earlier soft, warm wind howled around her in anger. Complete and utter terror took control. Mena's subconscious grasped the warmth of her nightly visitor, and he pulled her back to full awareness, allowing blessed escape from the very lucid dream. She awoke to the quiet gray of dawn and the soft hooting of an owl, perched in the old chestnut tree directly outside her window. The gentle sound worked to soothe her, as she slipped easily back into sleep. * * * *Chapter 1 Mena reached far into the center of the garden and grasped the offending weed. She pulled slightly on the heavy foliage and met resistance. The rich soil was obviously too good to leave behind. She leaned further into her grip and yanked with all her strength. The plant suddenly pulled free and she went sailing backwards, landing with a thud in the garden across the used brick pathway. A disgusted yowl erupted as she settled momentarily into the catmint that surrounded her. She shot a look at the black and white cat where he sat watching her with what she swore was amusement on his feline face. "Oh, shut up, Rory. I'm getting out of your precious plants." The cat blinked his caramel-colored eyes at her and watched as she crawled out of the flowerbed and dusted herself off. She still clutched the mangled weed in her right hand, so she tossed it into her wooden bucket, then plopped onto a nearby cast iron bench, shoving her heavy hair off her neck. She really should have put it up. The previously temperate autumn day was quickly becoming a very warm one for Indian summer, very unusual for late October! Mena surveyed her handiwork. Nearly done. The garden was pristine once again, the late fall weeds she'd pulled trailing in a bedraggled mass from her pail. She loved her garden. The riot of color, even this late in the season, soothed her and fed every corner of her soul. As she admired the calm beauty around her, a soft breeze lifted a tendril of damp hair and feathered it across her cheek in a soft caress. Immediately, she was reminded of her dream from the night before, the latest of many recent encounters; of the warm wind that had engulfed her and swept her upwards into what felt like a protective embrace. The dream had left her with a feeling of disquiet. The ones she'd been having for the last few months were different from the many others she'd experienced her entire life. Those had given her a feeling of protection as well--a benign protection--like being safe in the embrace of a loving parent. Lately, things had been different. Very different. The protective feeling that would wash over her was more like that of a possessive lover. A lover attempting to bind her to him, to keep her from harm. And last night, he'd said he needed her. He wanted something from her. There's no time to waste. The whispered words echoed in her thoughts. A chill raced up her spine as she recalled the icy breath that had invaded her dream world just before she woke up. The whole damn thing troubled her! Once again, she silently cursed the gift that had dogged her footsteps her whole life, refusing to let her live in the quiet, ordered way she desired. She felt the gentle pat of a furry paw on her cheek, and it drew her out of the place she'd been about to fall into. The place of many dreams. Dreams that haunted her sleeping--and then waking--hours. Dreams that tried to tell her things she refused to hear. Dreams that turned into daytime visions, insinuating themselves into her daily thoughts. She heard the soft meow behind her, where Rory was perched on the wide back of the elaborate bench. She turned around and scooped the small cat into her arms, hugging him to her and rubbing the soft black and white fur against her face. His purring engine revved into high gear.
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