เผบ๐Ÿ’“ ๐Ÿ’“เผป Out Now เผบ๐Ÿ’“ ๐Ÿ’“เผป Priestess of Storms & Stone by Annie Anderson Read the included Excerpt!!! @AnnieAnde

Priestess of Storms & Stone
Annie Anderson
(Rogue Ethereal #5)
Publication date: March 31st 2020
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

If there is one lesson Iโ€™ve been taught in my life, itโ€™s that fairies are the absolute worst.

Finding a fledgling succubus in Faerie is like locating a needle inside a realm-sized haystack. With a guide I canโ€™t trust and a goal more ephemeral than smoke, my odds of success are tenuous at best. Not to mention, as the last Elemental in existence, I have a giant target painted on my back.

Because one half of Faerie wants me dead, and the other half wants to use me as a sacrifice to open the gates to Earth. But I swore I would find my quarry, and I will. Even if I have to rip the entire realm apart to do it.

There is a storm coming to Faerie, and that storm is me.

Goodreads / Amazon

โ€”

EXCERPT:

It was never a good sign to be drinking bourbon at ten in the morning, but after the week Iโ€™d had, I figured I was due. Self-medicating with alcohol wouldnโ€™t take the sting out of my grief, in fact, it was likely to make it worse. But Iโ€™d needed a teensy little breather from my housemates after the last truth bomb had been dropped, and wrapping my head around my new knowledge required booze.

I could feel Dellaโ€™s eyes on me, her acute vampire gaze boring a hole in the side of my face. She wanted an answer to her question, and she likely wasnโ€™t going to leave me alone until I gave her one.

When are we leaving?

That question echoed against the walls of my brain with enough force to give me a headache. Melody was alive. She was alive, and my sister was dead.

But that didnโ€™t make a lick of sense. Melody died right in front of me. I watched Aurelia send her soul on in a way only a phoenix could do. I watched her body burn in the flames of a funeral pyre. I needed answers before I could answer Dellaโ€™s question.

Because I wouldnโ€™t be leaving to hunt her down unless I was sure this wasnโ€™t some kind of trick. Iโ€™d been tricked too many times in the last week, and I wasnโ€™t falling for another one.

โ€œMelody is dead, Della,โ€ I whispered before taking another sip of bourbon, refusing to face my bodyguard. If I looked at her, Iโ€™d see either pity or censure, and I couldnโ€™t deal with either.

โ€œThen why is her son gone?โ€ Della pointed out a big hole in the โ€œMelodyโ€™s deadโ€ argument.

Shit, fuck, and damn. I made a promise to Melody to keep her son safe. If it wasnโ€™t Melody who had her sonโ€”and I highly doubted it wasโ€”then Iโ€™d have to go get him.

In Faerie.

Aces.

But hadnโ€™t I earned a break? Hadnโ€™t I earned the right to let someone else take up the slack?

You made a promise. You swore. You canโ€™t turn away just because youโ€™re hurt.

Those words cut through my thoughts sharp enough to bring tears to my eyes. I did. I made a promise to make sure her son was safe. And Iโ€™d keep it. Maybe it would make my soul burn just a little less. Maybe if I did this one thing, losing Maria wouldnโ€™t hurt so bad.

Yeah, I doubted it.

I sniffed back the sting of tears, tossed back the rest of the bourbon, and managed to set the glass down without smashing it. Iโ€™d been on a smashing kick for the last little bit, and my living room had borne the brunt of it. At the time, Iโ€™d wanted to destroy everything Maria had ever touched. If I could just break it, burn it, wreck it, then it would have been like she wasnโ€™t stamped all over every molecule of my house.

Wasnโ€™t that stupid?

Like I wouldnโ€™t see her every time I closed my eyes.

โ€œOkay, Iโ€™ll give you that,โ€ I muttered, finally answering Dellaโ€™s question. โ€œBut I canโ€™t just bust down the door to Faerie and find her. If it is her. We need way more to go on than a note and a can-do attitude.โ€

I peered down at myself. I had on black shorts and a black tank top. It was good enough for summer in Denver. All I needed was some flip-flops. Had I brushed my teeth today? Shrug. Was I wearing a bra? My tank had a shelf bra in it. It would just have to do. Plus, Barrett wouldnโ€™t give two shits about what I was wearing. I located my flip-flops in their spot by the door, shuffled my feet into them, and raised my hand to snap my fingers.

But Della pounced on my hand before I could complete the task.

โ€œWhat?โ€ My whole body was on red alert, my eyes searching my demolished living room and relatively untouched kitchen.

โ€œYou canโ€™t go out like that,โ€ Della whispered furiously, her face a picture of panic.

Frowning, I looked back down at myself. Yep, all my parts were covered.

โ€œItโ€™s summer. Shorts and a tank arenโ€™t going to turn any heads no matter how much ink is on display.โ€

A dawning realization lit up Dellaโ€™s face before she winced. โ€œYou havenโ€™t checked a mirror since you got back, have you?โ€


Author Bio:

Annie Anderson is a military wife and United States Air Force veteran. Originally from Dallas, Texas, she is a southern girl at heart, but has lived all over the US and abroad. As soon as the military stops moving her family around, she’ll settle on a state, but for now she enjoys being a nomad with her husband, two daughters, an old man of a dog, and a young pup that makes life… interesting.

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