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Portence by Gini Rifkin

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  • Fae Warriors, Book 3

    In the final battle to save the Earth, Fae Warrior, Portence Goodeve stands ready to serve Mother Nature. But as she fights for the future of the planet, she’s haunted by her past. One near-death experience and a betrayal that goes deep become weapons that could get her killed.

    Malachi, a cross/breed, half-sorcerer and half-Fae, is back to help fight the Reptile invaders. Once upon a time, his sexy Fae-half stole Portence's heart, breath, and good sense. Then he abandoned her—what if it happens again? Should she surrender to desire, giving both Malachi and love another chance? Or seek retribution and be done with him forever?

    Portence and her sisters, as well as their Earth partners, are in a fight for their lives. When Malachi's magic is stolen and his life is in danger, will she discover the path to her future is bound by both love and duty?

    Rating: Hot
    Page Count: 212
    Word Count: 51175
    978-1-5092-1660-4 Paperback
    978-1-5092-1661-1 Digital


    “I came to warn you.”

    “About what? I don’t need your help.”

    “You needed my help back then, Portence, and you need it now. Why must you always be so stubborn?

    “It’s poor strategy to bring up what you did to me in the past,” she snapped, ignoring his question.

    Mouth pressed into a grimace, she stood her ground, fighting to remain calm. Fighting not to slap his face and then fling herself into his arms. They stood in the moonlight staring at one another, he with those golden eyes, clear and penetrating. His expression hot as molten amber.

    His five o’clock shadow had slid closer to eight o’clock, deepening the angles of his beautiful face, adding darkness and danger to the sculpted features so angelic when he so chose. His lustrous black hair, grown longer, had been tamed into multiple braids intertwined with feathers and beads, all of it hanging down his back over the hood of the caftan he wore. The long flowing fabric, black as his hair, twinkled with Celtic symbols embroidered in silver thread.

    The garb obscured his form except where it stretched tight to accommodate his broad shoulders and chest, but she remembered every dip and hollow of his well-muscled body. She’d touched and tasted of it fully, repeatedly.

    “Thurax is here.”

    His statement hit her like a blunt instrument, bringing her up short, stopping her from telling him to go jump in a fire-lake. Then, for a moment, her mind went blank at the horror inspired by his information.

    With a shiver, she glanced around. Why would their old archrival be here? He was the reason she and Malachi had ended up in deep space, fighting for their lives in a broken down clunker of a light-year shuttle. Or was he lying? Squaring her shoulders and shaking off the fear, she stared him down. “Thurax is dead.”

    “Afraid not. He’s a little worse for wear, I’ll grant you, but definitely not dead. He’s working freelance now.”

    By Mithras, that ratcheted up the odds in favor of the enemy. Fighting Reptiles hadn’t worried her beyond the usual concerns of combat, not that they weren’t tough and deadly. But throw in an alien bred for warfare, one who lived and breathed for conquest, this upped the ante. Guess they should be glad he came solo.

    “Still not ready to listen to truth or reason?” He shook his head. “So be it. But you better listen to me when I tell you this. Mother informed you Xandora’s behind this, and I’m telling you it’s her last hurrah. She’s willing to fight to the death to get what she wants. And she’s willing to take out anything and anyone in the process.”

    “Including you?”

    “Of course. Would you be sorry?”

    “The only thing I’m sorry for is ever having believed in you.”


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