Life is a Whirlwind

Whew, I feel like I can't keep up with all the things I want to get done. I'm listening to Michael Jackson and still in shock that he's gone. So much beautiful music that he still had to make. There is never enough time. That's how I feel today.

For any out there following me, I have my hands in too many pots (as my mom would say), and I hope you learn from my mistake in doing that. Don't bite off more than you can chew or you'll be chewing for a very long time.

Nevertheless, I keep at it.

I have three releases this month: Last Kiss of the Clan Dancer and The Skeleton's Shadow at www.PurpleSword.com, and A Walk Between Worlds at www.AmiraPress.com. In each story I do see the theme that a reviewer once wrote I always include in my stories: Love is redemption. She said it right, and I had no idea I've been writing that theme into everything until I read her review. In my life that has always been an underlying theme. Love changes things for the better. It makes us who we are, and makes us want to strive for more. Love is the force that gives us the courage to reach for the stars. Love means that we are accepted just the way we are.

I hope that you have someone that loves you, that lifts you up when you're down, and that pushes you toward your dreams when you feel like you can't reach them.

New Release: A Walk Between Worlds

Dear Readers,

Today, I have a new release for you which is available at AmiraPress.com. I was asked to write a story for an anthology about winged men, and Kolar Darkwing was born. Cast off as an infant in the burning pits, he was taken in by an evil demon king and trained to kill as he grew to adulthood. A rare cross between demon and angel, he belongs nowhere and is loved by no one. A Walk Between Worlds is a high fantasy set in a world fraught
with demons and tangled up in a three way war. The unlikely love found between Kolar and the outcast Telen princess Treila will warm your heart, and the fiery attraction neither can deny is sure to warm you in other ways.








A WALK BETWEEN WORLDS
by Anastasia Rabiyah
Published by Amira Press 

Treila
is the second born twin and heir to the Telen throne after her sister’s
untimely death. Her sister, whose magic was of the light, of faith,
love and hope, was the one intended to rule Telen, not Treila, whose
magic is so obviously of the darkness. Faced with having to wed the Nor
King in order to save her city from destruction, she leaves Telen,
hoping to discover what became of her sister. She ventures to the
cliffs of Plemae where the angels dwell, for it was a dark angel who
stole her sister away, but before she can get any answers, she is
captured and brought before the demon king in the sky palace. There she
is thrown into an unwieldy alliance with the very dark angel who
kidnapped her sister—Kolar, now an outcast traitor for standing against
his master. Together, she and her enemy must escape the demons and
return to Telen before the full moon and the Nor King’s attack. As much
as she wants to hate Kolar, Treila can’t deny her heated attraction to
the dark winged angel despite who he is and what he has done to change
her life.



EXCERPT:
 
With both hands he heaved the door shut on his former
prison. Out of breath from the adrenaline in his veins, he knelt beside
the woman and tenderly brushed her cheek. “Are you . . . all right?”
She didn’t respond. He ran his fingers over her body to check for
injuries. Satisfied she was unharmed in any noticeable way, he turned
her on her side.


Even in the dim light, he knew her face, the curve of her
cheek, the pout of her full lips. Her eyes flickered and opened,
fixating on him. “Minai,” he whispered, incredulous. “How can this be?
I saw him kill you.” He traced her throat to be sure. No line or scar
marred her perfect dark skin. But her long hair had been chopped short.
He lifted her hand and placed her palm to his cheek, hoping to feel the
light inside her wash over him.


“I know you.” Her voice was low and pained. “I know you.” She
blinked and tried to sit up, pulling her hand away. “Bastard!” She
slapped at him. “Get away from me, you monster!”


He stood and stepped away, watching as she got to her feet.
The clothes she wore were not the finery of the Telen princess he had
stolen. Streaks of war paint and dried tears stained her cheeks. Her
full lips were drawn in a dangerous snarl.


“I’ll kill you for what you’ve done!” She charged at him, her fists curled tight, her eyes narrowed.



He remained still, standing in place to take each blow she pounded
against his chest. The strikes were nothing compared to the pain he
sensed in her. She had suffered because of him. He suffered, too. Their
pain and loss were the same, but he doubted she would see that.


The woman beat on him until she grew weary. Her breaths choked
with sobs, she finally stopped and stood there, eyeing him with hatred.



“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want Minai to die. I had
hoped . . . when I saw you here . . . that she . . . that you . . .” It
was no use. She was not the woman he had stolen. Minai was lost, dead,
forever a reminder of something beautiful and good that he passed into
his master’s hands.



“Why did you take her from me?” She sobbed and raised a fist again, holding it in midair.


“Because my master told me to take her.” He bowed his head. Her
hand slapped his cheek, knocking his face sideways. He deserved much
worse.


Outside the room, the sounds of hooves clopped across the
stone floor. Someone was coming, perhaps just a guard checking in on
those prisoners in the torture rooms. Perhaps someone worse. Kolar
raised his face. “Let me take you from this place.”



“I don’t trust you.” She glared at him.



“You must. There is no one else, and someone is coming.”

Last Kiss of the Clan Dancer

Newly revised and with added scenes, my sensual fantasy romance novella Last Kiss of the Clan Dancer is now available at Purple Sword Publications in e-book formats.

LAST KISS OF THE CLAN DANCER
By Anastasia Rabiyah
Available at: PurpleSword.com 

This is a sad tale, a reflection on many parts of the world. But it's also a hopeful tale as Rajiid shows what one person can do to change her world. This isn't for the faint of heart but it is an excellent read." -Dee Dailey, Awarded 5 Hearts, Reviewer for The Romance Studio

In this mystical world, a sinister leader has taken over and threatens to destroy all that is beautiful, colorful, and wild. Lars, a captain in Hareth's army, rediscovers what it means to be free when he comes across his lost love during a city wide raid. Rajiid, the woman from his youth, turns up in a tenement house, and he is forced by duty to turn her over to High Leader Hareth and her inevitable execution. This is a tale of redemption and regret. Find out if Lars can gather the courage to claim his destiny, or if his destiny will claim him.
EXCERPT:

He pushed himself down from the fence and approached her. “I’m Lars. Welcome to Caderwir Village. It’s not much of a place.” He nodded to the hills beyond. “But it’s green and crops grow well here.”

She tossed her hair over her shoulders and nodded. “Far more green than where I was born.” She grasped his hand and held it tight. “I’m called Rajiid. My people have come to dance and trade with yours.” She giggled at him. “Do you like to dance?”

Heat flooded his cheeks. “I’ve never tried. Too busy watching the sheep or tending the fields for my parents.”

“Mm.” She walked in a circle, leading him by the hand. “I’m a clan dancer. I’ll teach you to dance if you want to learn.”

His attention strayed to her round, ripe breasts exposed above her dress and pushed up by the laced corset she wore. He blushed worse and tried to keep his eyes on hers. They were dark brown and searching him as well. “I couldn’t try it in front of anyone. They’d all laugh at me. Men in Caderwir don’t dance.”

Her grin turned sideways. She nodded at the hills. “If you would show me the wilds, I would show you how to dance so well that no one will laugh at you. Even the men would stand back in awe.”

He whistled a signal to stay to the dog. Then Lars and Rajiid walked hand in hand along the fence and away from the caravan and village. Her hand warmed his. He felt connected to something new and unexpected. As the high grass closed around them, he wondered what more they would do besides dance. He had only kissed a girl once, and it was a hurried affair behind her roundhouse. She had married someone else seven days later, so he knew he had meant nothing to her. The thought of kissing Rajiid made him anxious and nervous.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked. Her feet made whispering sounds in the grass. His boots crunched the grass in time with her steps.

“No. I’m the only child. It was a hard birth according to my mother. What about you?”

She laughed. “So many I sometimes lose count. My mother has three husbands and each demands a son, but she keeps having daughters. I am her seventh child.”

“Three husbands?” He couldn’t imagine how that would work out. “Do they fight?”

“Sometimes. They are all loyal to her. It’s not usual for a woman to take so many. Two is enough, even one if he is headstrong.” They paused beside a small stream. “I only want one.”

He cleared his throat.

She faced him and took up his other hand. “Are you ready to learn?”

“No, but you’re here, and I’m here. I don’t think anyone can see us.” He glanced around, uncomfortable.

She nodded. “Then we start with a basic dance. One you do when you find a woman you like.” She winked at him before she ran her chest across his and stepped back. He knew he must have been bright red from her coming so close to his body like that.

“Think of animals. When they seek a mate, they touch—like this.” She pulled his hands over her head and twisted. Her backside rubbed against his crotch. “Or this.” She leaned her head back so that their cheeks touched. Then, before he could relax into the unexpected closeness and breathe in more of her alluring scent, she pulled away and released his hands.

Lars watched her dance around him, her fingers drawing symbols in the air. Her hips swayed, and each step she took she balanced on the balls of her feet. Rajiid was pure seduction. Each time she came close to him, she dragged her fingers over his exposed skin. First, his forearm. Then his neck. A caress to the cheek. A swipe of soft fingers over his lips.

He wanted to keep up with her. He followed and copied what she did although he was not nearly as graceful. He mirrored her daring touches. His fingers trailed across her forearm and up to her shoulder. He withdrew. She advanced.

Her voice hummed a smooth song that matched their movements. Her body blurred at times. Her touch grounded him. They danced until he became short of breath and backed away.

“You’re magic,” he said.

“A little. Sometimes, a little is enough.”

New Release: The First Kill

THE FIRST KILL
By Anastasia Rabiyah
Published By Sugar and Spice Press 
Fantasy/Erotic Romance

Fresh from training as a deadly assassin, Marin is given
her first assignment--murder Lord Coreth and carve her master's mark
into his face. Confident in her abilities, she travels to Jondah and
targets her first kill, but when she finds herself in Coreth's bed, the
undeniable heat between them causes her to second guess not only her
assignment, but her life.

EXCERPT:
Rain spat down on Marin and soaked through her clothes.
She stood in the crowd of commoners to hear Lord Coreth speak. She
tried to ignore his shouted words of encouragement and his promises of
protection from the city’s rival, a Lord Heden. Instead, she watched
the way Coreth carried himself, perched as he was on a high parapet
atop his hold. He was fair of skin, as fair as the parchment ordering
his death, and Marin wondered what it would be like to touch a man so
lightly colored. She could not help her attraction to him, though the
effect was unsuspected. Beneath her sodden clothing, her nipples had
hardened at the prospect of getting close to her target. The heat of
desire and the erotic thoughts she suffered kept her warm in the chilly
spring air.


She supposed he was a good man. His interest in his people and
the state of his lands proved as much. She slipped her hand into her
cloak and fingered the handle of her blade. Touching her weapon brought
her back to her senses. I care not for his countenance, only the color
of his blood. With her mind set to the task, she waded through the
throng of bodies toward the keep’s door. The oak portal was open to
all, though none but her seemed interested in going within. Marin edged
along the stone wall inside, using her shadow trick, a guild magic she
had honed over the past year. She could make herself unnoticed though
not truly invisible as some from her class could.


She blended past the guards and ventured through a winding
corridor. There was little else in the way of security to hinder her
assignment. She figured she could have Coreth properly murdered and be
back on her way soon after the sun set. It was not difficult to locate
his quarters. A high room set apart from those of the servants, it
screamed of power. The double doors were gilded and opened wide to show
off the wealth within. Wrought furniture sparkling with encrusted gems,
and finely embroidered fabrics decorated the chamber. Marin crept
inside. Sparing no time, she hid in the thick bed curtains, glad for
such an easy advantage. Lord Coreth will die in his bed, his throat cut
clean through and my master’s name carved into is handsome face.


The wait did not bother her. She had been trained to bide her
time and play the part of patience. As she settled down beside the bed
frame on the floor, she breathed in the scents of the room. Lavender
and boot oil. Leather. The hint of a man’s musky scent. Fresh linens
that had hung in the open air to dry. This quiet, dark hiding place
reminded her of when she used to hide from her brother beneath their
parents’ bed. He never thought to look for her there.


Midday waned. Her clothes dried out. She calculated the time by the
stretch of shadows that reached across the floor toward her when she
peeked out every so often. By her estimates, the evening meal was being
served. Soon after, a servant entered the chamber. The sound of water
pouring into a wash basin broke the silence. Footsteps padded out.


Lord Coreth’s steps were heavier and sure, the footfalls of a
confidant man. The double doors clunked shut one after another. An iron
slid into the bars to lock out his servants and any guards that might
save his life. Marin smiled. She dared to peek from the curtains.


Coreth threw off his blue cloak and stared out the open window
at the clouds in the evening sky. As he did so, the fingers of his left
hand plucked at the ties on his shirt. He pulled off the garment to
reveal broad shoulders and a fit body, pale and alluring.

Demonic Scavenger Hunt!

Crymsyn Hart and Anastasia Rabiyah are having a scavenger hunt to celebrate the release of the anthology Demonic Obsessions--available now from Amira Press! Click on the banner below or visit either author at www.RabiyahBooks.com or www.RavynHart.com for all the details.