Well, well, well…’twould seem the magic word is “Melancton.” Last week Wicked Satyr Nights went on sale for $0.50 at Breathless Press. I promised a teaser from the one scene in Under the Satyr Moon that was in Melancton’s POV if you guys could get WSN on the Breathless Press Bestseller list and keep it there till the end of the sale.
YOU DELIVERED!!!! OMG! Thank you so SO much! It was so exciting. WSN made it to number 5! And as of last night was still holding the spot 🙂
Before I get to the teaser, if you didn’t see the post on facebook or twitter yesterday, the short story I wrote about Jacen, one of the Arcadian satyrs, is going to appear in BP’s Ravaged volume 2 anthology this fall. Will post dates and all that when I have them. The story is called “Midnight at the Satyr Inn” and you will also meet Prince Evander who will be getting a book in the series later on.
But the reason you are all reading this post for anyway: Melancton!
Unedited from Under the Satyr Moon:
The ground was soft and squishy from where the rain had soaked into it. Melancton dropped to his knees and felt the wet chill of earth embracing his legs, pulling him closer. It offered a comfort and peace he could not find in immortality. He remained there, staring at the ground and not really seeing it. A numbness spread over him, helping him not to think, not to feel. He craved the freedom it brought to him, but he knew the apathy wouldn not last. When the first glow of the rising sun turned the mud from ebony to chestnut, he felt the presence looming behind him and the cold, piercing dread in the pit of his stomach returned. It knotted his guts and stabbed him in the heart until he almost collapsed from the assault.
“Kneeling already? Maybe you do know your place after all.”
“Apollo.” There was no point in sparing insults. There was nothing left to fight for, yet the bitterness on his tongue made it impossible to hold his words. “Come to kick me while I am down?”
“Me? Why would I do something so…trivial. Besides, I might get satyr scum on my sandal.”
“Ever so glorious, great one.”
“I like it better when you just stand there in silence and let me tell you how things are going to be. Sarcasm does not suit you.”
He glared up at the god, whose hair was so blond it seemed to glow in the morning light. For a man formed so beautifully, he had such a cruel smile. Melancton had always thought so. In his nightmares, Apollo wore that smile while torturing her. The twisting of his heart cut off his train of thought. Melancton could not even think of her name without it hurting.
I failed. I am so sorry I failed you.
Rebekah Lewis 