Tag Archives: Chimera

Bear With Me

Please #bear with me! It’s been a while since I posted anything, but this is my first day off from the ranch in a while and every other free minute I’ve had has been taken up with writing my latest novel. It’s the third book in my Darkest Kynd series, and it features my #chimera character, Urick, who is part grizzly bear.

Compliments of Kuchera at Dreamstime Photos.

Compliments of Kuchera at Dreamstime Photos.

Not only has ranching and writing kept me busy, but I’ve got a new release slated for June 28, 2016. It’s the first book in my Darkest Kynd series, titled Lover In Stone, and I’m wicked excited about sharing it with the public.
There’s a lot of work involved in a new book release, but somehow I’m managing to juggle everything. Besides, hanging out with Uri the Bear Chimera is fun!

~S.C. Dane

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LOVER IN STONE, Installment No. 19

 

INSTALLMENT No. 19 #skin #Aristotle #first circle of Hell
Angelia didn’t like the honesty chiming through the words he spoke. Merrick was dead serious, which quieted her all the way to the bone.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you back out before I do.” The Chimera’s moment of being unguarded evaporated as if it had never been. He was again the storm cloud passing over the sun.
And his snide comment pissed her off, a visceral reaction that rarely happened to her. Usually, she just got sad. But, maybe Merrick was right, and being in Hell did have its advantages.
Angelia balled up her sleeping bag and stuffed it into her pack while she indulged in a rare mental tirade.
Did he really believe she was so shallow that the only thing she could be concerned with was her own safety? Did he really think his choice wouldn’t bother his friend, Darken, either?
Merrick was the selfish prig, not her, believing that staying in Hell wouldn’t bother anyone.
How could he do it?
Yeah, she knew he harbored a thick rage he barely concealed, but still, it didn’t mean he had to dwell in this ungodly place.
She slatted at the drawstring of her bag, cinching it taut like a hangman who relished his job.
“Angelia.”
Merrick calling her name was just as enthralling as the voices in the river.
At least this voice she heard. Regrettably.
Swallowing a deep breath, she cocked a disgruntled hip. “What.”
Merrick ran his hand across the top of his head, mussing his black hair. He seemed frustrated with her, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His whole body tensed, his jaw clamping. She saw the slate of his eyes harden as his rage resurfaced.
“What?” She wouldn’t gulp, damn it.
The Chimera, still in his sexy Gargoyle form, drew up to her. He was a full head and shoulders taller than she was, and definitely twice as wide. Angelia’s head fell back, just so she could keep looking at him.
Towering over her, his body electrified hers. They weren’t even touching and her hips felt the pull of him, so that she had to fight to keep herself from slinking up against him like some big cat in heat.
Merrick glared down at her, the depths of his rock-like eyes fluctuating, plunging impossibly deep, then constricting till they were flat and shallow.
“The Castle,” he growled, lifting a muscle-roped arm with a clawed hand at the end of it.
Well, hookay. She couldn’t see the muscles rippling under his coat, but she sure as dogcrackers was imagining them. Angelia peeled her wanton gaze from Merrick to look where he pointed.
“Full of learned men, from before Christ.” His voice scraped thick, menacing.
Yeah, that growling factoid ought to register a little stronger than it did. She should be heeding the message, not the vibration.
The Castle housed the greatest minds of all time. Aristotle, Ovid, Socrates. Yet, all she could think about was the Chimera, who moved to stand behind her. Very close behind her.
He felt huge looming back there. She could smell the leather he wore. She could smell him.
What were a few dusty, old minds when she stood next to such heat? Such life? She didn’t want to meet the revered minds of history, she wanted to get to know this Chimera who delivered her to them.
She didn’t need a side trip away from this Gargoyle-shaped man.
Merrick lowered his head to drag his nose along her nape, erupting goose bumps over every inch of her skin. “Someone might know where the human who stole the Scriptum was headed.”
Dear God, she was practically panting. “Good point.” And oh yeah, it was a lead to follow, even if he’d said it to taunt her. Because they were on an important mission.
Except.
“Merrick?”
“Hmm.” Ooh man, she loved his growl.
“I’d rather learn about you.” There. She said it. Looking dead ahead and not at him, but she’d said it. Maybe her little fit of anger had given her the courage. She didn’t know, or care, but she would risk his denial.
****
Merrick’s heart pinged, then swelled, then constricted again, like it couldn’t figure out what its job was. His whole body went rigid, so Angelia’s softness, in contrast, seemed like a warmth cushioning the thin space of air between them.
He didn’t want to tell her a damned thing.
He didn’t want to refuse her, either. Not this angel who strung every nerve within him to singing.
She had given him something of herself when he’d carried her across the Acheron, even if she hadn’t known it, and had been asleep while doing it. Christ, she was giving him something now, a thrill in his skin he’d not felt since…
Never.
Merrick had never felt this taut sensation before. It maddened him, drove him wild. It was all he could do to rein in his urges. He could and should give a little something back to this woman, no matter how she tormented him. No matter if she was human, she deserved his consideration.
He wanted to give her more than his consideration.
Jesus. What was happening to him? A day ago, he wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass about hurting any human’s feelings. Now? Now, he’d met Angelia, Anton’s miraculous, beautiful daughter, and his own emotions had somehow gotten tangled up with hers.
She wanted to know about him. The Vampyre’s adopted darling was looking beyond the Chimera’s thickening skin, past the rage simmering in his very muscles. Merrick knew how volatile he was, yet she was seeing beyond that.
No, she was coaxing him beyond his consuming rage, and it unsettled him.
So, for both of their sakes, he would opt to tell her something a little safer, a little easier on his baffled emotions, while he steered them toward the Castle.
He dared to brush his knuckles against the small of her back to bump her forward. Even through her clothing, his fingers measured the inward curve of her spine, the bowing out of her wonderful ass, and his hand curled into a tight fist lest it grope for something more.
“Kharon is Kynd, like me. That’s how I got you across the Acheron.”
~S.C. Dane
~Installment No. 20 coming Saturday, April 4, 2015.

Lover in Stone, Installment No. 7

 

INSTALLMENT NO. 7 #gargoyles #romance
Merrick didn’t look at the woman. He needed to keep his gaze drilled on the ancient trio seated in front of him. The clothing he wore had grown tight enough as it was, he didn’t need it cinching his crotch. Nor did he need to dwell on why he thickened in that region in the first place.
“The Scriptum, it seems, won’t come back in your hands.”
Oh, but damn. Her voice stroked like warm silk across his skin, making his chin tilt to better indulge the caress of her tone. He ground his jaw the second he realized what he was doing.
He was acting like a dog who loved the scratch of his furry ears.
“I’ll bring it back,” he growled, and instantly regretted the alarm flaring in those blue-black eyes. Merrick took an unpracticed step back. “What I meant was–”
“Of course you will, Mr. Merrick,” she assured him, as if she’d never flinched. “But I’m afraid that’s not the issue.”
Mr. Merrick. Like he wore a business suit and wasn’t part Gargoyle.
“Only she can bring it back. The Scriptum wanted her to touch it. She has to be the one to bring it back.” Aro’s needling grated on Merrick’s one nerve, and his claws pierced into his fisted palms.
Ignore him. Ignore her. Concentrate on the Triumvirate.
No better advice had ever been given. With a practiced eye, he watched the trio’s every subtle movement. His sharp hearing trained on the slender thrumming of their pulses, on Anton’s heartbeat.
The Vampyre suffered, yet did not speak against his daughter’s participation, or Aro’s assumption.
“If you don’t trust me…” Merrick dangled the bait, his sly gaze holding to the three in front of him.
“It is not a matter of trust, Merrick.” Anton rose, pushing his knuckles against the highly polished table top. “It is a matter of my daughter’s safety. She must go in, but she cannot go in alone. We need you, Chimera, to escort her, to keep her safe. That is all we ask.” He spread his hands, as if defenseless.
Because he was. This daughter meant a lot to the Vampyre. “And the Scriptum?” Merrick challenged.
Anton hesitated less than a heartbeat, yet Merrick couldn’t have missed it. He wasn’t just Gargoyle. His blood was an elixir of three formidable creatures, and Merrick knew the Vampyre could smell the subtle potency of the combination.
Even without being the one to escort Anton’s daughter through Hell, the Vampyre would deem it necessary to respect him. It would be perilous to do otherwise.
Resignation softened Anton’s expression. “I wish I could say it meant nothing. But I, too, have my duty to my kind. We will all benefit from the teachings of the Scriptum, its secrets. We cannot leave it in the hands of those who have stolen it away to Hell.
“My daughter is the one to retrieve it for us,” he admitted, his breath vacating his lungs on a long exhale. Anton’s silver eyes held Merrick’s, and hid nothing of his fear for his adopted daughter.
Merrick locked his gaze where it was while he chewed on his predicament.
The seconds limped by.
Keep not one, but two, precious items from getting destroyed? A nearly impossible feat given where he and the woman were expected to go.
“It will cost you,” he finally conceded, as forthright as the Vampyre who stood at the dais.
“Anything, Chimera.” The deal steeped down to the two players, as if the others in the room evaporated like non-essential vapor.
Well, not all of the others. Merrick never lost the trace of the human woman’s scent, of her watching him. She watched her father, too. He couldn’t have missed a single gesture of hers if he tried.
Anton and the Triumvirate would pay for that, too. Why not. “When I bring your daughter back with this book, you will owe the Kynd a building in their honor. One engineered with their retirement in mind.”
He couldn’t bring himself to say their deaths. The Kynd didn’t truly die. At first, anyway. They spent centuries encased in stone, perched on eroding ledges. They witnessed ceaselessly, watching the living below them until their bodies crumbled under the incessant ravages of time and weather.
Christ on the cross. Where was the deliverance from that torture? Oh, right. There wasn’t one. The Kynd got the nosebleed seats to the eternal game of life. Perennial passes for every season.
“It will be done, Chimera.” Anton’s acceptance rained on Merrick’s pity party, but his attention snapped back to the fore, like a pitbull scenting blood.
Just like that? This woman meant an awful lot to the Vampyre, and he cursed that he might fathom why. Merrick risked an appraising glance toward the woman who had cost the Vampyre so much, surreptitiously observed her dark eyes pool with tears, her fingers press to her lips before they formed the words Papa in a dreadful sigh.
Dear God. He wanted to hold her. Not just feel her small body enclosed in his arms, but to rub himself all over with that honey-lavender scent.
By thunder, Anton would pay. The Chimera would not rescind this deal, not when this human woman confounded him, made his body ache to do things it had never done before.
Merrick nodded his agreement, then peeled his attention onto the rest of the Triumvirate. “You mentioned packs for the journey. We’ll leave before this hour is up.” He didn’t wait for their reply, but stalked from the stone room that had begun to press on him like a cave.
He hated the underground. But more than that, he hated that he felt as if he’d just bargained for more than what was on the table.
~S.C. Dane
~Installment No. 8 coming Saturday, February 21, 2015

Gargoyles or Sexy Guys? Lover in Stone, Installment No. 1

Hey, Folks!
It’s been awhile since I finished “Wolf Love” and you’re probably wondering where the heck the new story is. Chew your fingernails no more! Here it is:

“Lover in Stone.” A paranormal romance dripping with spicy love scenes and a spicier man. Or, Chimera, in this case. What the eff is a Chimera? He’s a triple threat kind of beastie–three yummy creatures in one.

In this story, our Chimera is Merrick, who’s Gargoyle, Lion, and Angel. Don’t be put off by the Gargoyle portion. This is a paranormal romance. Men are hot, hot, hot. Forget what you know of ugly gargoyles. Mine are hunks of granite with a capital G.

Now, I’ll shut up, so you can get reading. Installments will come twice a week: Tuesdays and Saturdays. Yeah, I know today is Wednesday, but I was anxious to reveal “Lover in Stone.”

Here’s your blurb and the Prologue.

Enjoy!

To the world they are the Grotesques—hideous chimeras and gargoyles of stone. But before they are locked in their granite prisons, they are Kynd——magnificent beings condemned to prowl the nightmares of every realm.

Their tortures will doom them to stone.

The love of a Chosen One could save them.

For more than two thousand years, Merrick has borne the misery of being the guardian to Hell’s Archway. He has witnessed millions of condemned souls, slaughtered thousands of trespassers, and his enraged despair is pushing him to the brink of becoming what the world expects his Kynd to be.

Go to Hell. A mission the Triumvirate instructs Angelia Delacroix to undertake, and she doesn’t blink twice. Not when she feels it’s her destiny to retrieve the Scriptum, an ancient text stolen from the Literati and absconded with to the bowels of that infernal cauldron.

As the pair quest for the Scriptum, will Merrick surrender his battered heart to the beautiful Angelia? Or will he succumb to his rage, dooming himself to his stone fate for all eternity, and his Chosen One to the innermost Circle of Hell?

Lover in Stone

Prologue

            “So it is written?”

            “It is, my Lord.”

            “And sent forth?”

            “To Earth, as you instructed. But?”

            “Speak freely, Alielle.”

            “If the Scriptum is not found in time?”

            “Ah, your fears are well grounded, old friend, but let us have Faith.”

            “But if it is found not by whom you have intended?”

            “You play devil’s advocate.”

            “I do.”

            “Then I have a worthy companion in you, Alielle. All will not be lost.  There is still hope, even then.”

            “Yet, if the Chosen One and the scriptum are not united?” 

Then its secrets will remain locked.”

            “But Your Kynd, my Lord.”

            “Ah, yes. My beloved Witnesses, angel. There lies the conundrum of Free Will, even for them. They will suffer until they decode their own Truth.”

I fear for them. Even if they free themselves and choose sides, they may not find Love. For all their discretion, my Lord, they are a fierce lot.”

            “So they are. But have faith in Love, Alielle. It has power even you cannot imagine.”

            “And you trust the Kynd will gain knowledge of it? That they will discover Love, along with their Chosen One? That seems improbable, with all due respect.”

            “It will take a Miracle.”

            “I hope you are joking.”

            “Faith, Alielle. Take courage in our Kynd and their ferocity. For still they are Witnesses, and see much.”

            “I hope you are right.”

            “I love them, too, angel. Let us pray they learn firsthand what it means to love, to understand the elemental joy of sacrifice.”

            “Sometimes, I think Lucifer is right. You can be cruel.”

            “Not cruel, little one. You shall see.”

            “As it is written?”

            “You are a wise angel, Alielle. Bless Our Kynd. Yes, as it is written.”

~S.C. Dane

Next Installment coming Saturday, January 31, 2015.