Posted by: reneewildes1 | January 17, 2019


A Guardian Revealed

Guardians of Light, 3

Ruled by the moon. Lured by desire. Destined for a miracle…or bitter betrayal.

Years ago, the pull of the full moon and a powerful curiosity drew Finora into a human fisherman’s bed—a man who stole her selkie skin and took its location to his grave. For seven years, trapped on land, she has searched fruitlessly. Hope fading with every passing year.

Tasked with finding and returning dragons to his mountain homeland in the east, Trystan follows a slim lead westward across an unfamiliar sea. When pirates attack his ship, leaving him with injuries too severe for his werewolf to heal, he comes face to face with the most unexpected of rescuers—Finora, her two, half-human children, and the biggest damned dog he’s ever seen.

Tristan and Finora’s attraction is instant, undeniable, and hopeless. Finora is pulled to the sea, Tristan is tied to the land. But Finora can help him complete his mission, and share one night of searing, heartbreaking passion. And memories only the deepest of betrayals could shatter…

Warning: Contains Celtic legends, seven-year curses, dragons with bad attitudes, imperiled children, a grumpy sea goddess, and wave upon wave of soul-searing pleasure.


Tucking the wee ones into bed with a kiss, she closed the door. Edgy, she grabbed her shawl and stepped outside. Storm sprawled before the door, but Niadh and Trystan were not to be seen. Striding over to the edge of the cliff, she sat in the cool grass, tucking her knees under her chin, and stared out at the dark depths of the sea. The tide tugged at her soul, that never-ending siren’s call. She’d no business on land—her home lay beyond. Curse Bran’s pride and folly. But what if she did find her skin? What would happen to her wee ones if she returned to the sea? What would it be like to forego her newfound freedom for the constraints of the harem, to surrender her will anew to whatever bull she must answer to, be it sire…or mate? The long-silent Prince Matteo? They’d been Intended by her sire, in a formal binding ceremony. Whatever had become of him after her disappearance? Griogair hadn’t said—and she hadn’t asked.

She lay back and stared up at the all-powerful moon, the cool, glowing face of Cilaniestra, who gave and took back, like the very tide itself. So much a part of her…

Trystan’s steady footsteps approached. He dropped beside her. “I could hear you brooding clear across the bluff.” He’d been running, long and hard. Damp heat poured off him.

“Do you think she’s beautiful, the face of Cilaniestra?” She waved to the moon.

“From your tone, you don’t? She rules our world—nightwalker and sea critter alike.”

“She’s a treacherous bitch.” Her tone was hard as stone as she sat up. Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“What do you not think I’d understand? Being trapped in one form while your entire being screams to be another? Having that hollowness gnaw at your bones day and night without rest?” He cupped his hand under her chin, turning her face so her gaze met his. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a trace of feral-green mere inches away. “I know the sea calls you home, but you can’t return. Why?”


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