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