The warrior’s hand closed around Ayla’s wrist. “Not now,” she said with a sigh which sounded regretful. “And stop trying to manipulate me with sex. It won’t work.”
“Are you sure?” Ayla flashed a bright smile and for a moment, looked many hundreds of years younger than her age, her left brow raised in a playful, inviting expression which Kira seemed to find difficult to resist.
Catch up with Lesbia!
“We have one source of intelligence we have not tapped,” Kira said when Ayla let her speak once more. She was breathless from the extended kiss, and there was a certain pink flush over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, but she was still mentally focused on the task at hand. “Nive. We should interrogate her.”
Ayla shook her head, blonde strands flowing loosely. “That seems…”
“This is war, Ayla,” Kira interrupted. “You wanted war and that makes Nive a prisoner. She should be thoroughly interrogated so we can be certain that there will be no surprises.
Click here for more…
Check out the main Lesbia page for the new header art, which is a composite of two character portraits I’ve commissioned for the current series. So far we have Ayla and Ariadne, Kira comes next 😀
So I was messing around with snapchat (as everyone is mandated to do now that it is the current year) and it grabbed the latest Ayla illustration from my images and made it one of the options in the ‘photo swap’ section. The result was… half disturbing abomination / half strangely compelling – and that’s totally my aesthetic!
There’s more Lesbia art coming too, so stay tuned. I am full of ideas and fancies, you know.
“I will go and recover the elf,” Kira said. “You stay here, keep the fortress running smoothly and try not to provoke Ariadne too much.”
Ayla’s expression was grim as she beheld the bristling warrior. “I don’t like your tone, Kira.”
“I don’t care for your behavior,” Kira replied. “It’s reckless.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” Ayla pointed out calmly.
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“You may give orders to your soldiers. You will take them from me.”
Kira narrowed her eyes at the witch. “Do I tell you what herbs to use in your potions? No. Do not tell me how to conduct a war. If this place is to be defended, I am the best person to command that defense. You may come out on top in the bed, Ayla, but you are trifling with the lives of many here.”
Click here for more lesbian intercourse! (of the verbal kind.)
(Oh and a poll, which contains at least a semblance of democracy.)
If you’ve been following the latest Lesbia updates, you may have gotten a sense that there is some change in the air. The new Lesbia artwork reflects that. A portion of it can now be seen on the main page. Thanks to pippin for the bold and wonderful title lettering work 😀 (The cover for the next book has knocked my socks off, and you’re about to get a taste of that after the jump.)
Click here to see Ayla as you have not seen her before…
One can never trust witches, especially in conjunction with closets…
“Hello, my dear,” Ayla said as she walked into Kira’s room, interrupting the warrior at her work. The sound of steel on stone stopped abruptly as Kira cast a curious look at the witch.
Ayla had left Nive chortling with glee at the prospect of her father’s invasion and returned to the tower to attend to more important matters. She seemed taller than before, holding herself erect and proud as she flashed a smile at the warrior who was sitting on a stool, polishing a blade.
“You’re in a good mood,” Kira noted.
Alone with Nive, Ayla once more dropped the charm which held the curly haired brat in stony thrall. Nive virtually exploded with rage, her violet eyes blazing furiously as she stood, hands clenched into fists, face taut with an expression which mirrored that of her far-off father.
“You,” she said, drawing a hissed breath between her teeth. “Do not know who you are dealing with.”
“Neither do you,” Ayla replied quite calmly. She smiled patiently, seeming to enjoy the conflict. “You do not know how many times I have been through this very process, taming wild young women. Waifs and strays with attitude to burn…”
Ayla came to consciousness in quite a temper. The glow of coital bliss had abated completely with Ariadne’s return and in its place was a cold fire. It was strange to be so relieved and yet so very, very angry at the same time. When she had thought Ariadne was dead, she had mourned deeply. Now that the goddess was there in the flesh, she felt the pain of the wound inflicted by that immortal hand all over again.
“Leave,” she said in cold tones. “You are not welcome here.”
Ariadne looked at her steadily, gold flecked eyes giving no emotion away as the dark lines swirled beneath her skin.
“Go!” Ayla picked up a pillow and threw it at Ariadne. The petulant act had little effect on the mother of all witches. Instead of striking her it flew very wide, hit the wall and slid down it.
Is it too soon to do a cover reveal for the next Lesbia book? I’m not actually expecting to have this out for a month or two at least, but I have the cover ready (as well as having revamped the cover for Clockwork Goddess) and that’s all very exciting for me, and perhaps for you, if you have an interest in all this.
Yesterday’s excerpt was probably a bit darker in tone than anyone was expecting, and yes, the drama is amplified in the next installment, but it’s not all unexpected assassinations and unpleasant weather. There will also be hotness and niceness and probably cake.
Without further ado, hit the ‘continue reading’ button to see the cover for the fourth Lesbia book!
If you love Lesbia, you might enjoy reading some of what I’ve been working on for the next book, which will focus on Ayla. I would say more, but that would just get in the way of the actual story and nobody needs that.
Alone in a little cottage in the middle of a very dark forest, Ayla the witch stared into the flames, her beautiful green eyes reflecting the light of the fire as she hummed a little birthday song to herself.
“Five hundred years,” she mused to herself. “Five hundred years and so many more to go.”
The truth was she was not sure that it was her five hundredth birthday. The years had long ago begun to run into one another. She had started counting in decades, then in centuries, but still they blended. Five hundred was a good round number, so she celebrated that. She had celebrated it numerous times before, with one seven hundredth birthday thrown in for good measure somewhere along the line.
Age did not seem to touch her, aside from making her hair a lighter shade of pale gold. Long strands fell to her waist, the bulk of it tied back behind her head in a long ponytail, a few escaped locks draping over her shoulder. Her gray robe was snug about her waist and loose about her breasts, their ample swelling warmed by the heat of the fire. Continue reading