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© 2006, Brenda
Williamson Reviews For THE WITCH STONE by Brenda Williamson The charming characters in The Witch Stone will captivate the readers. Azrielle and Bram are intriguing as they struggle to balance what they feel against destiny. The two have a very intense physical relationship and are able to form a lasting emotional bond that is touching. I enjoyed that Azrielle a young witch was willing to do whatever it takes to help Bram achieve his destiny. Reviewed by: Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews If you like a good witch story that will leave you breathless from the steamy passion, and two hearts that are determined to prove that rules are meant to be broken, then pick up THE WITCH STONE and see what Azrielle and Brandon have to teach an old establishment bent on following rules when there is no rules in the game of love... Dawn, LOVE ROMANCES Sample Chapter For THE WITCH STONE by Brenda Williamson The balmy night held a serene, tranquilly-ripe-for-straddling tone. Azrielle Marris stretched out on her bed. The fluffy down comforter cushioned her in a cloud of white. She smiled up at the familiar wood knots on the beaded panel ceiling. Then, slowly lowering her lashes, she shut out the sight of her room. Her heart pounded with excitement. Not good, when she needed a deep, undisturbed slumber that put death to shame. “A few too many cookies, I should think,” she grumbled as her favorite, sleek black dress, inched and bunched at her thighs. She bought the slinky, sexy spandex for the purpose of going to a nightclub. Though she didn’t drink, her sister-in-law, Andale, met her brother in one of the upscale dance clubs. And it was Andale who convinced her it was a good place to meet men. “Azrielle? Azrielle, are you in there?” Her mother’s voice echoed from outside the door. “Oh, not now,” she grumbled under her breath. “Azrielle?” “Yes. I’m in here.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and hopped off. Hurrying, she tugged on the hem of the dress, and stumbled to the door. She jerked on the doorknob and nearly ripped her arm from the socket. “Damn.” The curse slipped out softly. “Azrielle, is everything all right in there?” “Yes.” The old slide bolt moved freely under her fingers and she opened the door without quite so much vim. “Why, dear, don’t you look nice?” Her mother smiled. “Thank you.” Azrielle rubbed the ache in her shoulder. “Are you going out tonight?” “It was my intention.” “Well not like this you aren’t.” Her mother looked at the bed, at the window, and then at her. Her frown made worry lines crease her smooth forehead. “Mother, I’m not a child anymore.” “You’re trying to take flight.” She walked to the window. “When I taught you how to project your astral aura, I thought I made the rules clear, you must leave—” “A window open.” Azrielle sighed. Her mother pushed the sash up. The white painted wood groaned in protest to the movement. Gwen Marris turned and placed her hands on her hips. Her head shook from side to side with disappointment written in the fine lines creased at the corners of her mouth. “Azrielle, you’re new at this. When a witch does anything, it should be with care and diligence for repercussions.” “I know. I’m sorry I forgot.” “Until you master astral projection, the window must be open. I would hate to think your aura isn’t able to find your physical-self after taking flight.” “I’m getting better.” “ ‘Better,’ ‘sometimes,’ and ‘just about got the hang of it,’ won’t do. Don’t forget the window again.” Azrielle nodded. Her mother cupped her cheek. “I love you, and I don’t want to lose a daughter. Until you master this gift, you must allow for error.” “I won’t forget again.” Azrielle waited for her mother to leave before she hit herself in the forehead with the heel of her hand. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Flopping back on the bed, she straightened her dress, and closed her eyes. With calmer thoughts, she progressed through the steps much quicker. Her beating heart slowed and she felt lightweight. Drifting upward for the fourth time out, she floated away from her body. She discovered she had a knack for shifting into flight. However, she struggled with direction. Her first try had landed her on a downtown street. The second, she fell into a sandbox on a children’s playground. The last time, when she really thought she’d done well, she discovered she was in the wrong mall. Azrielle whispered the incantation. “Pass the moon if you wish to be seen, or tarry yourself in between.” Of course, she wanted people to see her. She didn’t see any other reason to travel like an apparition if she couldn’t mingle and party as part of the crowd. She rode the night wind unable to feel the cool breeze filter through her. Crossing over the slip of a crescent moon, she smiled. Her ancestors, with heavy robes and pointy hats, left an impressive silhouette as a legacy that modern witches couldn’t change. “Stop!” a masculine voice shouted. Distinctively aware the command didn’t have anything to do with her, she couldn’t keep from listening. Footsteps shuffled and scuffed the pavement. A loud crash of trash cans and boxes followed. Damn. The sexy voice came out of nowhere again. What’s going on? she thought. Who’s that speaking? the man asked. Who’s there? Shocked by his questions, which seemed directed at her, she lost her concentration and immediately tumbled into a dark alley. “Ouch,” she cried upon impact with a pile of garbage. “Oh, I really do need to learn how to land better.” While her body laid in a suspended sleep on the soft white comforter of her bed at home, her astral aura sat in goop. Slimy leftover food from a restaurant permeated her nostrils with a foul odor. Spoiled eggs never stunk as badly as what she had dripping from her hands. Picking the bits of food from her hair, she got to her feet. “Gross.” She looked at the spaghetti and lettuce caught in her fingers. “Damn…” the deep masculine voice grumbled. Suddenly, out of the blackness, a man ran toward her. Azrielle blinked twice. For a moment, in the soft glow of a single light bulb hanging on the side of a building, she saw him. Her heart skipped a beat and her mouth dropped open. Gorgeous men were hardly common in her life. Moving from the light, his shadow came at her, and he grabbed for her hand. “Come with me,” he ordered. She shook her head, surprised by his request. * * * * Bram Latimer couldn’t leave the girl helpless in the middle of his battle. When her hand didn’t encase in his, he looked at her a moment longer. The light from behind him glinted off her face. He stared at the pretty features and recognized her as a witch in flight. Hardly easy for most witches to touch her apparition, he knew he’d not have trouble if he gave a bit of thought to the action. He stood for a second, spellbound by her wide green eyes. If she hadn’t blinked, he could have suffered dire consequences by the sparks of heat pulsing through his limbs. “Novice.” His throat rasped out a sound not sounding quite like his. “You’re thinking of staying, so don’t.” This time when he took her hand, he held it firmly. He felt her mystical aura resistant and he liked the power struggle she gave him with her tug on his arm. However, danger lurked and he didn’t have time to play with her. “Come on,” he commanded. “No.” For a young witch, her strength amazed him. It didn’t help his efforts when her scent, a delicious ripeness, emitted from her pores and weakened him. He pulled her close, wanting to bathe in her glorious essence, and let it wrap him in a cocoon of stimulant. Her luscious virgin body overwhelmed his mind. Without licking over her satiny smooth flesh, he imagined the flavor of her on his tongue. Bram went years without ever running into the kind of woman he needed to carry an Orion seed. Now that he found the feminine vessel, he discovered what he only heard in rumors about the power of their scent. He had one seed to deposit in a womb. He didn’t even need her permission for the simple, quick, and painless deed. But he had a carnal hunger for her participation. “Stop fighting me.” He used a firmer hold to restrain her. She intoxicated him with her sensual, warm, feminine fragrance. Her squirming rubbed in the right places for the wrong reasons. “Stop!” she protested. “I won’t go with you.” “Oh yes you will.” Bram grabbed her around the middle and flung her onto his shoulder. “Hey!” she squealed. “Put me down this instant.” “I don’t have time to argue with you.” He froze at the sounds of footsteps in the dark. “Put me down.” His back straightened, his hearing pricked to the sound. He had chased a suspected murderer into that alley. Nothing would have stopped him other than a girl in danger. His fingers dug into her thigh, his other arm strapped her bottom, and he ran to find safety. “Ouch!” He dropped her on her feet when she pinched him. “Now let me go.” “Shhh...be quiet.” “I will not.” Bram found a niche in a doorway to hide them. “Any sound from you will put us in danger.” He put a hand over her mouth. At the louder tap of footsteps, she froze. Her fingers hit spots on him around the middle, gripping his jacket. Normally, he could control what he felt. Formed of spiritual matter, not physical, he had a way of forgetting to turn off some of his senses. As he pressed her into the alcove with the length of his body, he didn’t want to stop the ache she enticed in his groin. |