Title: Priestess of Storms & Stone
Series: The Rogue Etheral
Author: Annie Anderson
Genre: Adult, Urban Fantasy
Release Date: 31st March 2020
BLURB supplied by Xpresso Book Tours
If there is one lesson I’ve been taught in my life,
it’s that fairies are the absolute worst.
Finding a fledgling succubus in Faerie is like locating a needle inside a
realm-sized haystack. With a guide I can’t trust and a goal more
ephemeral than smoke, my odds of success are tenuous at best. Not to
mention, as the last Elemental in existence, I have a giant target
painted on my back.
Because one half of Faerie wants me dead, and the other half wants to use
me as a sacrifice to open the gates to Earth. But I swore I would
find my quarry, and I will. Even if I have to rip the entire realm apart
to do it.
There is a storm coming to Faerie, and that storm is me.
PURCHASE LINKS
EXCERPT
It was never a good sign to be drinking bourbon at ten in
the morning, but after the week I’d had, I figured I was due. Self-medicating
with alcohol wouldn’t take the sting out of my grief, in fact, it was likely to
make it worse. But I’d needed a teensy little breather from my housemates after
the last truth bomb had been dropped, and wrapping my head around my new
knowledge required booze.
I could feel Della’s eyes on me, her acute vampire gaze
boring a hole in the side of my face. She wanted an answer to her question, and
she likely wasn’t going to leave me alone until I gave her one.
When are we leaving?
That question echoed against the walls of my brain with
enough force to give me a headache. Melody was alive. She was alive, and my
sister was dead.
But that didn’t make a lick of sense. Melody died right
in front of me. I watched Aurelia send her soul on in a way only a phoenix
could do. I watched her body burn in the flames of a funeral pyre. I needed
answers before I could answer Della’s question.
Because I wouldn’t be leaving to hunt her down unless I
was sure this wasn’t some kind of trick. I’d been tricked too many times in the
last week, and I wasn’t falling for another one.
“Melody is dead, Della,” I whispered before taking
another sip of bourbon, refusing to face my bodyguard. If I looked at her, I’d
see either pity or censure, and I couldn’t deal with either.
“Then why is her son gone?” Della pointed out a big hole
in the “Melody’s dead” argument.
Shit, fuck, and damn. I made a promise to Melody to keep
her son safe. If it wasn’t Melody who had her son—and I highly doubted it
was—then I’d have to go get him.
In Faerie.
Aces.
But hadn’t I earned a break? Hadn’t I earned the right to
let someone else take up the slack?
You made a promise. You swore. You can’t turn away just
because you’re hurt.
Those words cut through my thoughts sharp enough to bring
tears to my eyes. I did. I made a promise to make sure her son was safe. And
I’d keep it. Maybe it would make my soul burn just a little less. Maybe if I
did this one thing, losing Maria wouldn’t hurt so bad.
Yeah, I doubted it.
I sniffed back the sting of tears, tossed back the rest
of the bourbon, and managed to set the glass down without smashing it. I’d been
on a smashing kick for the last little bit, and my living room had borne the
brunt of it. At the time, I’d wanted to destroy everything Maria had ever
touched. If I could just break it, burn it, wreck it, then it would have been
like she wasn’t stamped all over every molecule of my house.
Wasn’t that stupid?
Like I wouldn’t see her every time I closed my eyes.
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” I muttered, finally answering
Della’s question. “But I can’t just bust down the door to Faerie and find her.
If it is her. We need way more to go on than a note and a can-do attitude.”
I peered down at myself. I had on black shorts and a
black tank top. It was good enough for summer in Denver. All I needed was some
flip-flops. Had I brushed my teeth today? Shrug. Was I wearing a bra? My tank
had a shelf bra in it. It would just have to do. Plus, Barrett wouldn’t give
two shits about what I was wearing. I located my flip-flops in their spot by
the door, shuffled my feet into them, and raised my hand to snap my fingers.
But Della pounced on my hand before I could complete the
task.
“What?” My whole body was on red alert, my eyes searching
my demolished living room and relatively untouched kitchen.
“You can’t go out like that,” Della whispered furiously,
her face a picture of panic.
Frowning, I looked back down at myself. Yep, all my parts
were covered.
“It’s summer. Shorts and a tank aren’t going to turn any
heads no matter how much ink is on display.”
A dawning realization lit up Della’s face before she
winced. “You haven’t checked a mirror since you got back, have you?”
Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she'll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, an old man of a dog, and a young pup that makes life... interesting.
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