Book Review
of Rogue’s Pawn (Covenant of Thorns Series)
Sponsored by Bewitching Book Tours
Rogue’s Pawn
by Jeffe Kennedy
Covenant of Thorns Series
978-14268-9406-0
Carina Press
July 16, 2012
This is no fairy tale…
Haunted by nightmares of a black dog, sick to
death of my mind-numbing career and heart-numbing fiancé, I impulsively walked out
of my life—and fell into Faerie. Terrified, fascinated, I discover I possess a
power I can’t control: my wishes come true. After an all-too-real attack by the
animal from my dreams, I wake to find myself the captive of the seductive and
ruthless fae lord Rogue. In return for my rescue, he demands an extravagant
price—my firstborn child, which he intends to sire himself…
With no hope of escaping this world, I must
learn to harness my magic and build a new life despite the perils—including my
own inexplicable and debilitating desire for Rogue. I swear I will never submit
to his demands, no matter what erotic torment he subjects me to…
Rogue's
Pawn Excerpt
“Enough,” a male
voice said.
As if I’d ceased to
exist, Tinker Bell blinked her eyes and regained her lovely self, face
smoothing, shining once again in sunny elegance. Reboot and resume program. She
gracefully stood and glided to the tray, set the bowl precisely in the center,
lifted the tray and left the room without hesitation.
Booted footsteps
crossed the room toward me. Act II, scene ii. Exit Nasty Tinker Bell, Enter
God-Only-Knows-What-Now. My face was sticky with whatever the brothy stuff had
been, my hair wet and fouled. I stank. I hurt. I was chained to a bed in a
place so completely unknown I couldn’t begin to understand it. I tried to
squeeze my legs closer together, but the chains seemed at the limit of their
reach. The energy of my brief triumph evaporated, allowing tears to well up
again.
Oh, please, please,
please, do not cry. The threatening sting worsened. I closed my eyes and one
tear leaked out. He stopped next to me, surveying me.
“You’re certainly a
mess.” His wry voice was rich and smooth.
My eyes snapped open
to glare at him through the blur. Fifty different smart remarks flew across my
tongue, most along the lines that any failures of appearance on my part could
be laid on the doorstep of someone besides myself. But even the buzz of the
first word on my vocal chords brought searing agony. Relieved to have a
legitimate reason for the tears, I almost welcomed the searing sensation.
“No, don’t try to
talk—no one needs to hear what you have to say, anyway. Not that we can help
it, since you think so loudly. And you have a decision to make. We have a
quandary.” He began pacing, boots echoing against stone. “No one can heal you
while you’re bound in silver and we can’t release you from the silver until you
have yourself under control. Which will take a considerably long time—perhaps
years of training—if you’re even able to accomplish it at all.”
I thought of the
birds crashing in increasing cacophony with a small shudder.
“Exactly,” he
confirmed. “And yes,” he said from the window behind my head where he seemed to
be gazing out, “I can hear most of your thoughts—another reason to save trying
to speak aloud.”
My stomach congealed
in panic. Had he heard my secret thoughts? Don’t think of them, bury them deep,
deep. Think of other things…like what? Think of home, think of Isabel. Isabel,
my cat—Clive hated her. What would happen to her now? How could I not have
thought of her until this moment? Abandoned, wondering why I never came home
for her… And my mother—she’d be frantic. How long had I been gone? They could
be all dead and buried, lost to me forever. The anguish racked me.
“Shh.” The man sat on
the side of my bed now, heavier than Nasty Tinker Bell. He brushed the hair
back from my forehead, then placed his long fingers over my brow and, with his
thumbs, rhythmically smoothed along my cheekbones, wiping away the tears that
now flowed freely.
I stifled a sob. I
had cried more in the past day than I had in years. The sweeping along my
cheekbones soothed me, melting warmth through my skull. The rhythm became part
of my breathing. Deep breaths. Smooth, easy. The awful tightness in my chest
gave a little sigh and released.
“Let’s try again,
shall we?” The man pulled his hands away. I could hear him brush them against
his thighs. Soup, tears and blood. Yuck.
My eyes cleared
enough for me to see him. Ebony-blue climbed over half his face. The winding
pattern of angular spirals and toothy spikes swirled out of his black hair on
the left side of his face, placing sharp fingers along his cheekbone, jaw and
brow. For a moment, the tattoo-like pattern dominated everything about him.
Ferocious and alien.
Once I adjusted, I
could see past the lines. His face echoed Tinker Bell’s golden coloring. He
could be her fraternal twin, with those same arched cheekbones. But where she
was golden dawn, he was darkest night. Midnight-blue eyes, that deep blue just
before all light was gone from the sky, when the stars have emerged, but you
could see the black shadows of trees against the night. He shared Tinker Bell’s
rose-petal mouth, but with a curious edge to it. I suppose a man’s mouth
shouldn’t remind one of a flower, and there was nothing feminine about this
man. Where she wore the pink sugar roses of debutantes and bridal showers, his
lips made me think of the blooms of late summer, the sharp-ruffled dianthus,
edges darkening to blood in the heat. His bone structure was broader than hers
but still seemed somehow differently proportioned, his arms hanging a bit too
long from shoulders not quite balanced to his height. Inky hair pulled back
from his face fell in a tail down his back. One strand had escaped to fall over
his shoulder and I could see a blue shimmer in its silk sheen.
He arched his left
eyebrow, blueness in the elegant arch, repeating the deep shades of the fanged
lines around it.
“Shall we?” he
repeated.
I stared at him. What
was the question?
About the Author:
Jeffe Kennedy took the crooked road to writing,
stopping off at neurobiology, religious studies and environmental consulting
before her creative writing began appearing in places like Redbook, Puerto del
Sol, Wyoming Wildlife, Under the Sun and Aeon. An erotic novella, Petals and
Thorns, came out under her pen name of Jennifer Paris in 2010, heralding yet
another branch of her path, into erotica and romantic fantasy fiction. Since
then, an erotic short, Feeding the Vampire, and another erotic novella,
Sapphire, have hit the shelves.
Her
contemporary fantasy novel, Rogue’s Pawn, book one in A Covenant of Thorns,
will be published in July, 2012.
Jeffe lives in Santa Fe, with two Maine coon
cats, a border collie, plentiful free-range lizards and frequently serves as a
guinea pig for an acupuncturist-in-training. Find her on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/Author.Jeffe.Kennedy)
and Twitter (@jeffekennedy) or visit her at her website http://jeffekennedy.com/.
Book Review:
Fun and scary look at what would
happen if a mortal fell into the Fae realm.
The heroine’s dream man turns out to be a bit of a nightmare; and she
definitely didn’t sign up for powers and everything else that is happening to
her.
This book has adventure, torture,
romance, secrets, magic, love, and power struggles all set in a unique look at
the Fairy world. The story is
well-written, humorous, sad, and stands on its own in a genre saturated with
fantasy stories. Rogue’s Pawn is a fresh and enjoyable look at the Fae world.
I give this book 4 out of 5 clouds.
This
product or book may have been distributed for review; this in no way affects my
opinions or reviews.
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