Lakota Honor
Branded Trilogy
Book 1
Kat Flannery
Genre: Historical western paranormal romance
Publisher: Imajin Books
Date of Publication: May 30, 2013
ISBN: 9781927792001
ASIN: B00D0S530G
Number of pages: 183
Word Count: 71,000
Cover Artist: Ryan Thomas Doan
Book Description:
Fate has brought them together, but will a promise tear them apart?
In the small town of Willow Creek, Colorado, Nora Rushton spends most of her days locked up in her home with a father who resents her and fighting off unwanted marriage proposals from the wealthy Elwood Calhoun. Marked as a witch, Nora must hide her healing powers from those who wish to destroy all the witkowin—crazy women. What she doesn't know is that a bounty hunter is hot on her trail.
Lakota native Otakatay has an obligation to fulfill. He has been hired to kill the witkowin. In a time when race and difference are a threat and innocence holds no ground, courage, love and honor will bring Nora and Otakatay together as they fight for their freedom.
Will the desire to fulfill his promise drive Otakatay to kill Nora? Or will the kindness he sees in her blue eyes push him to be the man he once was?
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/2_rK9fREcos
Amazon BN Createspace Chapters
PROLOGUE Lakota
Honor
Colorado Mountains, 1880
The
blade slicing his throat made no sound, but the dead body hitting the ground
did. With no time to stop, he hurried through the dark tunnel until he reached
the ladder leading out of the shaft.
He’d been two hundred feet below ground for
ten days, with no food and little water. Weak and woozy, he stared up the
ladder. He’d have to climb it and it wasn’t going to be easy. He wiped the
bloody blade on his torn pants and placed it between his teeth. Scraped
knuckles and unwashed hands gripped the wooden rung.
The
earth swayed. He closed his eyes and forced the spinning in his head to cease.
One thin bronzed leg lifted and came down wobbly. He waited until his leg
stopped shaking before he climbed another rung. Each step caused pain, but was
paired with determination. He made it to the top faster than he’d thought he
would. The sky was black and the air was cool, but fresh. Thank goodness it was
fresh.
He took two long breaths before he emerged
from the hole. The smell from below ground still lingered in his nostrils;
unwashed bodies, feces and mangy rats. His stomach pitched. He tugged at the
rope around his hands. There had been no time to chew the thick bands around
his wrists when he’d planned his escape. It was better to run than crawl, and
he chewed through the strips that bound his feet instead. There would be time to
free his wrists later.
He
pressed his body against the mountain and inched toward the shack. He frowned.
A guard stood at the entrance to where they were. The blade from the knife
pinched his lip, cutting the thin skin and he tasted blood. He needed to get in
there. He needed to say goodbye. He needed to make a promise.
The tower bell rang mercilessly. There was no
time left. He pushed away from the rocky wall, dropped the knife from his mouth
into his bound hands, aimed and threw it. The dagger dug into the man’s chest.
He ran over, pulled the blade from the guard and quickly slid it across his
throat. The guard bled out in seconds.
He
tapped the barred window on the north side of the dilapidated shack. The time
seemed to stretch. He glanced at the large house not fifty yards from where he
stood. He would come back, and he would kill the bastard inside.
He
tapped again, harder this time, and heard the weak steps of those like him
shuffling from inside. The window slid open, and a small hand slipped out.
“Toksha
ake—I shall see you again,” he whispered in Lakota.
The
hand squeezed his once, twice and on the third time held tight before it let go
and disappeared inside the room.
A
tear slipped from his dark eyes, and his hand, still on the window sill, balled
into a fist. He swallowed past the sob and felt the burn in his throat. His
chest ached for what he was leaving behind. He would survive, and he would
return.
Men
shouted to his right, and he crouched down low. He took one last look around
and fled into the cover of the forest.
Blood Curse
The Branded Trilogy
Book 2
Kat Flannery
Genre: Historical paranormal suspense romance
Publisher: Imajin Books
Date of Publication: October 1, 2014
ISBN: 9781772230031
ASIN: B00MV4UDHI
Number of pages: 216
Word Count: 75,000
Formats available: eBook and Trade paperback
Cover Artist: Ryan Thomas Doan
Book Description:
“Upon mine death for the blood ye have shed, Every daughter born to ye shall die before it draws breath, to which ye will know pain and worse, I cast unto ye mine blood curse.” ~ Vadoma
Four years after the Blood Curse, Pril of the Peddlers vows to protect her child against the evil men who hunt her. With her clan unaware of the branded girl among them, Pril has to keep the identity of her daughter a secret. When her child is kidnapped, she is forced to ask Merchant runner, Kade Walker, for his help.
Kade Walker needs to find the gypsy child. Blackmailed and pushed beyond his own moral code, he is determined to do whatever it takes. When he comes across the Peddler clan, he is sure the girl is there, however all hope is lost when the gypsies capture him. Time is running out—until Pril makes him an offer he cannot refuse.
Amidst greed, lust, revenge and love, Pril will need to trust Kade. But as the evil nears and doubt creeps in, will she discover that the enemy has been standing next to her all along?
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/tJZeBrpg-zw
Blood Curse Excerpt:
“Upon
mine death for the blood ye have shed,
every
daughter born to ye shall die before it draws breath, to which ye will know
pain and worse, I cast unto ye mine blood curse.” ~ Vadoma
CHAPTER
ONE
Appalachian
Mountains, Virginia 1723
Pril Peddler lifted the green shawl
from her trunk and wrapped it around her bare arms. The change in seasons
brought a damp chill to the morning air, and the heavy woolen wrap kept her
warm. She peeked at the small face huddled under the blankets at the back of
the wagon. The charm above the child swayed on the string Pril had hung it
from. A dull ache hummed in her chest when she thought of the horrific loss her
clan had been dealt.
The evil was near, and she’d need to
work another spell to keep them safe. Late for counsel with her brother,
Galius, she kissed the soft cheek of her daughter before heading to the door.
Hand up, she shaded her eyes from the
bright sun as she stepped from the back of the vardo. She pulled the heavy
burlap curtain down to close the opening and walked toward Galius.
“Your steps are light this morning,
Sister. One would think you did not want to be heard,” Galius said as he
stirred the coffee beans inside the metal pot.
Tension twisted her gut. He was right;
she did not want this counsel. She did not know what to say. She let the
flicker of merriment in her brother’s eyes wash over her relaxing the muscles
in her shoulders.
“My step is the same.” She poked him
with her finger trying to ease her own nerves and his as well.
His lips lifted as if to smile, and she
held her breath. It’d been weeks since he smiled. Pril’s heart ached, and her
lips trembled.
He held up the bubbling pot. “Would you
like a cup?”
She inhaled the aroma of strong coffee
beans and nodded taking a seat on a wooden stump by the fire.
He handed her a cup and sat down across
from her.
The wood crackled, and sparks jumped
from the heat onto the ground in front of her. She tipped her chin
concentrating on what to say next. Ever since the murder of her niece, she’d
not been able to hold a conversation with either of her brothers without
offering apologies. This morning was no different. She could not look Galius in
the eyes and see the anguish and sorrow within them.
The Monroes had come again.
They’d
never be safe.
She blinked away the tears hovering
against her thick lashes. Tsura was asleep in her wagon, while another was lost
to them forever. The door of her brother’s wagon creaked open and Milosh’s
wife, Magda, stepped out. Black circles settled around her sunken eyes, and
Pril felt the stab in her chest once more. Long brown hair fell untied down the
woman’s back. The black clothes she’d put on weeks ago hung on her body
unchanged and wrinkled from sleep. Milosh came from behind their wagon, a jar
of honey in his hand. Pril stood when Galius’ large hand grabbed her wrist.
“They are not wanting to see you today,
Sister.”
She heard the regret in his voice,
swallowed past the guilt in her own throat and nodded. Milosh hadn’t spoken a
single word to her since the death of his child. He blamed her, and it was
clear so did Magda.
“I…I’m so sorry, Galius.”
He didn’t reply right away, and without
seeing it, she knew he had wiped the tears from his eyes. “Alexandra’s death is
not your fault.”
The words were spoken because they
needed to be. Gypsies stayed together no matter what. They were family. There
was no truth to his words, and Pril knew it.
“Are you going after them?” she asked.
“I hold no power, no spells flow from
my lips. I am strong, yes, but they are stronger.” He stared at her, his eyes
pleading. “We need the pendant.”
Guilt thickened her tongue; the gritty
residue clung to her lips and tasted bitter.
The talisman had been in their family
for generations, blessed by each new Chuvani. Vadoma had promised her the
pendant before she died, but Pril never saw it, and there had been no time to
search for the jewel when they fled.
“Without the pendant we cannot break
the curse. We cannot protect our people.”
She knew this. They all knew this, but
no one had a clue as to where the talisman was. She’d tried to call an image
forward, to make a finding spell, but nothing worked.
“We have lost one of our own. Our clan
is frightened. They have lost faith. We cannot fight the Monroes. We have
neither the numbers nor the skill.” He took a long drink of his coffee. “And
neither do you.”
She glanced at him.
“I know you, Sister. You’re planning to
take Tsura.”
Pril sighed. She did not know what else
to do. The Monroes were coming for her child. Alexandra had died because of
that. Milosh and Magda hated her.
“Running is not going to change
anything.”
“It will save lives. It will…help
Milosh and Magda to heal.”
“No, it will not. Running will get you
and Tsura killed and that is all.”
“How can you look at me when you know
what I’ve brought to our family, when you know that this is all because of me?”
Galius blew out a long breath that
moved his thick beard from his lips. She watched through tear filled eyes as
his bottom lip quivered.
“Vadoma put this burden on you. For
that, we do not judge.”
Their sister had died a vile death.
She’d betrayed their clan and had hung while being burned. Pril ached for her
sister’s guidance and counsel. She yearned to know that what she was doing was
right.
“We had a plan, and up until
Alexandra’s death it worked. We will rethink and come up with something
better—stronger.”
The plan was simple. Dress the girls as
boys, and the Monroes wouldn’t find them. But someone had figured out Alexandra
was a girl. Someone had told the Monroes. They came for her, stealing the
precious child in the middle of the night. The morning two weeks before, as the
clan frantically searched for her, a harrowing scream Pril would never forget
echoed across the land. Milosh found his daughter’s body by the river, her neck
broken.
She raised a shaky hand to her mouth so
she wouldn’t let out the sob she held against her lips.
“I have enough for one more protection
spell.” She lied; her forehead ached because of it.
He glanced at her, his eyes showing no
emotion. “You will concoct another.”
“I cannot.”
He frowned.
“The spell has the oil Vadoma blessed.
Without it, Tsura is at the mercy of the Monroes and so are we.”
Galius pumped his large hands into
tight fists. “Surly you can think of another?”
“I cannot. Vadoma placed the blood
curse. It is only with the blessed oil that I am able to create the spell to
keep danger away. The oil is almost gone.”
He worked his jaw. “That gypsy whore—
She held up her hand to stop him from
blaspheming their sister. It wasn’t right. It brought evil to curse your own,
and Pril would have none of it.
“Our sister had her reasons. Leave it
be.”
“Reasons? She betrayed us. Left us with
a curse we cannot break and wealthy plantation owners hunting our very
hides—killing our children!”
She hung her head unable to look at
him. What could she say? He was right. Her very niece had died but thirteen
days ago.
About the Author:
Kat Flannery’s love of history shows in her novels. She is an avid reader of historical, suspense, paranormal, and romance. She has her Certificate in Freelance and Business Writing. A member of many writing groups, Kat enjoys promoting other authors on her blog. She’s been published in numerous periodicals throughout her career.
Her debut novel CHASING CLOVERS has been an Amazon Top 100 Paid bestseller. LAKOTA HONOR and BLOOD CURSE (Branded Trilogy) are Kat’s two award-winning novels and HAZARDOUS UNIONS is Kat’s first novella. Kat is currently hard at work on her next book.
Website: http://www.katflannerybooks.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/katflannery1
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