THE SAVAGE PRINCIPLE
Book Three of The Savage Series
THE SAVAGE PROTECTOR
Book FIVE of the Savage Series
Queen Clara has chosen her future king but as the Wedded Joining draws nearer, the Kingdom of Kentucky's sphere continues to degrade. Relations with the outside are non-existent and the beleaguered people housed within the confines of the kingdom will soon be loosed to join the fragment.
Calia and Evie join forces to escape the plan that Edwin has for Calia's future. Frantic to locate the women, Maddoc, Jonathan, Philip and Daniel join forces to cinch the net of safety around the pair before it's too late.
Calia doesn't long for a future where a male is the answer. However, when biology and destiny collide, she will find the choice that she wants the least, may be the correct one.
Will Calia be allowed to remain true to herself by protecting those she has vowed to defend? Can she overcome her past and be healed by the love of her one, true soulmate?
<spoiler> lay his strong face against Clara's swollen belly, his large palms holding either side like the precious treasure it was as his deep voice rumbled through the walls of her womb, "Clara, he kicks." The grin in his voice was hidden by her belly which arched in a graceful swell underneath breasts grown large for the babe she would bear.
For him, for them both.
He worked his hands around to the small of her back, a gentle heated massage against the part of her that was small and tender with the extra weight she carried in her front. "Mayhap it is a she?" Clara asked, her tone conveying her humor at his assumption that the baby must be male.
<Spoiler> raised his head, his intense blue eyes drilling her to the spot, the heat in them unmistakable. Her insatiable warrior, hot-blooded and virile. He pulled her against him gently, those hands that had moved over her body with tenderness, protected her against everything known to the sphere and beyond. They trapped her now in an erotic press of flesh that singed and burned with their union, their biology mingling between them like food; the proof of which lay in the cradle of her body.
"I do not need two women to protect, but a male child to train up as Band," he said emphatically.
Clara's full lips turned up in a smirk, and she pressed closer still, the fullness of her bosom against the hard planes of his chest and he groaned, his lips crushing hers like pressed velvet. When he raised his head he gazed into her flushed face and whispered, "Minx." His strong hands kneaded her hips as he gripped her tighter.
Then he showed her exactly what that meant....
The Pearl Savage-- where 19th century Victorian America collides with biospheres fueled by steam-punk technology. An epic romance between a "fated" princess and a savage unfolds despite every obstacle thrown in their way...
A Quote from The Pearl Savage:
Clara gulped back her anxiety, internally thankful King Otto had inadvertently paved the way for her next comment, “I know why they mayhap survive Outside,” the silence was that of a tomb but Clara continued in the well of it, ”the male had...” Clara gestured to the slender column of her neck, and the many faces of the crowd followed her motion, “...gills. They appear to aid in his breathing.”
“Watch your tone, Princess.”
“I tire of wine, methinks that this may be a refreshing distraction.”
Liar, Clara thought.
Well, she would not be getting any spirits on this journey, holding that thought as the happiest of the day.
Olive entered the Queen's chamber. After a low curtsy, she turned to Clara, “Princess, Sarah has requested your presence.”
“Really?” The Queen's eyes narrowed and Clara rushed to explain, “I was compelled to cut our visit short one night past.”
“That is not what I heard. I was told that you arrived back at our Royal Manse, half past one this morn.”
Clara was speechless for a heartbeat, “We had much to discuss.”
The Queen approached Clara all subdued violence in motion, her hand moving restlessly over the strand of rare pearls she always wore about her neck.
“Do not let your discussions stray to royal tales, Clara.”
“I will not.”
“Will not what?”
“I will not, my Queen.”
Ada smiled cruelly, and turned on her heel, giving a dismissive wave to Clara.
Clara was almost to the door when she spoke again, never turning, “What will you tell others when they see your face.”
“That I fell, Queen Ada.”
And Clara walked out, eternally grateful to leave the space the Queen occupied.
“You are coming with me Princess, that is the Prince's order. Do not attempt to bite me again,” he ground out, warily approaching her and she stifled a wild bubble of laughter. A big brute like him would be wary of her, then her eyes dipped to the wound that her mouth had caused and it was a disaster on his arm. She knew better than to take her eyes off him, but too late she was wrapped in his embrace and an evil look overcame him as he searched for some place to take her. Suddenly, his eyes bulged and his body stiffened, a cry escaped his mouth and his arms loosened about her. He slid to the left, falling in a crumpled heap to the ground, a dagger sticking out of his back, a thick agate embedded in its hilt. She looked up and it was <spoiler> who calmly crouched above the guard, taking the dagger out and wiping it casually on the guard's uniform before sheathing it.
“Clara,” he said, moving toward her.
Her lip trembled and she told herself that she would not cry, her relief as profound as any she had ever known. As she burst into tears and he drew her into his body, shielding her from the war which raged about them. The sounds of swords diminishing until the clatter ceased and an unnatural silence took hold of the meadow, the sun slanting along the ruined and bloodied grass, the whole of it looking like it was on fire.
“Princess,” Tucker began, “we are not brutes.”
Clara held her tongue. She had been present in the battlefield the day that two of the fragment had been absolutely brutish.
“However, it has come to my attention from Prince Frederic that you are quite concerned,” he let that word lengthen, “with your people. Now, that includes both peoples', eh? The savages and the sphere-dwellers alike.” He waited for her to respond.
“They are clan, Mr. Tucker, not savages,” Clara clarified.
“You are so wrong,” he said, waving away her comment. “You're <spoiler>. They're ordinary but necessary.”
He moved toward Sarah and she glared at him as he reached out and grasped a hunk of her wheaten hair.
“Do not touch me,” she hissed as she jerked away and he slapped her face, her head slamming into the male that held her. She spat blood onto the ground and her eyes met Clara's. Clara shook her head slightly.
“Tell her to remain still or I will make what I just did look like affection.”
Daniel squeezed Clara's shoulder and she quickly said, “Sarah, try to remain calm. Do not antagonize this man.”
Tucker turned to look at her. “I don't think I like the way you say man, Princess.”
Clara shrugged the shoulder Daniel's palm rested on. “I care not. I followed your command. Now do as you said you would; cease this abusive behavior.”
“I'm going to enjoy the breaking of you, Princess. Very much,” his jaw clenching as he said it.
Clara was struck by how much he reminded her of the prince.
Daniel saw the plan form in Tucker's eyes and had an inkling of what it might be, having seen him brutalize whatever female he took a liking to.
That would not be the purpose for Clara he promised himself. Somehow, she would escape that end.
Clara looked on in despair, her fate and those of her subjects uncertain. She was fast losing hope for The Band as an avenue of assistance. She was at once back in the bowels of her childhood. At the mercy of others, no one her advocate save herself. She trembled as the familiar suffocation of futility and helplessness overwhelmed her.
Then her gaze was captured by Anna, Sarah and Evelyn. Hope rode their expressions with surety.
They believed in her.
She straightened, resolve to fight a rod of steel keeping her rigid.
All at once Clara's vision wavered through a sheen of tears. They did not understand how terrified she was. She must confess. “You ascribe bravery that I do not feel. I do not deserve. I was beyond terror, I have no words sufficient for how I felt in those moments.” She looked at the Band. Her Band. “But for you, I would have had a horrible end. I thank you.”
The Band stood, putting their fists to their chest, strong hearts beating underneath hands that had murdered.
“We will follow you to the sea and beyond, Clara. A female such as you is worthy of our servitude and loyalty,” Bracus said, his eyes trained on her face.
She walked to them and grabbed Bracus and Matthew, touching the face of each Band member, she whispered, “I hope that I may be the leader that you believe me to be.”
“You already are,” Matthew said, grasping her hand and bringing it to his chest.
His heart beat underneath her flesh, warming her to the core.
The degradation of Queen Clara's sphere continues without apparent end. She must ask for assistance from the neighboring Kingdom of Kentucky to combat the demise of their way of life. However, the alliance isn't as strong without the promise of marriage, which in the past stood to unite the spheres.
Tensions run high, the ruination of additional spheres an imminent threat, causing strife and conflict. When Clara is seen as a pawn in a greater scheme and change of leadership, the Travelers interfere in an unforeseen way.
When two different groups of Travelers' objectives collide, a cataclysmic event ends in a scenario of unprecedented upheaval and resolution. Can Clara and the Band save the sphere and in so doing the people of the future? Will Clara find the peace and love she deserves?
Clara scrambled backward on the floor like an awkward spider, her hair spiraling out of control and blinding her as the snake that was <spoiler> reached her, drawing his arm back he whispered, “You could have been my queen, but I will not abide comedy at my expense. You will taste how powerful I am...”
There was nowhere to go, to hide. Clara rolled over on her side, assuming the fetal position, praying she could survive the abuse.
Knowing in her heart she could not...
One thought beat in her head as a drum:
Readers... can he save her? He is the one~
Written Feb. 27
Peter the butler heard Olive's screams and spit the blood out of his mouth where it fell onto the marble floor he had been polishing but one day past. The blade from the ruffian guard of their neighboring sphere sharp against his throat.
“Do not think to aid the lowly maid, my friend. Be thankful you have not captured the eye of our dear <spoiler>. Or your fate would be much worse.”
Peter wished to hang his head in forlorn misery, but the blade kept him still. He listened as Olive's screams went on and horribly on. When finally they died down to whimpers, the acoustics of marble and stone amplifying her torture, the first tear escaped Peter's eyes.
The poor creature.
Oh Queen Clara... Peter mourned, where might you be?
Evelyn staggered over to Maddoc's horse as three more of the fragment were almost upon them.
A warm spray of blood burst against her back as the one closest to her received a hit that nearly took off his head.
She could not breathe, craning her neck to look up at Maddoc, blood and gore a splattered spray everywhere her eyes could touch, his feet firm in the stirrups as he brought the blade down on the second of the fragment who followed the first.
Evie stumbled close to the horse's side and a mighty hand from atop the horse clutched the fabric of her dress and hoisted her onto its back.
She swung her leg over and when she was righted gasped in her first breath of air and whimpered in abject fear when she faced who came...
Clara looked around her, the afternoon sun of Outside beating down unmercifully against her unprotected skin. But that is not what gave Clara pause. It was the pock-marking of her sphere that stilled the breath in her throat. Clara took in the damage caused by the fragment but one day past and guilt seized her in its grip without mercy. Had Bracus not just discussed with her a preemptive strike against the very ones that had now peppered the sphere with weapons of salt? Pellets that once launched, burrowed their insidious pathway through the permeable walls of her home.
Clarence shattered the stream of her thoughts like a dam brought to heel. “Queen Clara,” he began, nervously ringing his hands together, “let us send word to King Otto that we must call a gathering.”
He was almost upon her when she tore a hole in the belly of the fragment. Even as his entrails exited his body, his sword bore down on her. Daniel stretched his body forward, meeting the tip of the downward arc with a clanging resistance as he barred its progress but inches from her face.
She shoved his body away like trash and Daniel checked the weapon so it would not advance into her.
They looked at each other for one interminable moment and with a move meant to hurt, not kill, she jabbed her hand into his throat. He fell to his knees, gagging. He could not breathe, and thought how handy throat slits would have been for him now.
He rolled onto his side, his hands clutching his abused throat, gasping for air as he'd seen the fish from the river do when they were on his hook, caught.
She bent down over his face and said on a whisper, “Aye, I thank you fragment.”
He drew in great breaths, and caught her fragrance in his nostrils, scent recognition blooming to life.
She was the thing of legend, the most sought after female in their world.
He was Band enough to know it and fragment enough to want it.
She turned and without a backward glance, leaped over the bodies of the fallen and clutched the women to her, herding them out of the bowels of the wood, a womb without mercy.
Clara shuddered and Matthew drew her against his body, pressing a kiss on the crown of her head.
His wounds wept against her borrowed wardrobe.
Her last thought was of Caesar, conspicuous in his absence.
A shadow of foreboding stole over Clara. After all, the royalty of that sphere had a way of reappearing.
The group assembled, Daniel having never been but an arm's length from Calia. Philip the same.
Two halves of a whole. Both men in place to protect.
She needed neither.
Calia needed herself and no other.