Four
Feasts Till Darkness
Book
One
Christian
A. Brown
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication: September 9,
2014
ISBN: 978-1495907586
Number of pages: 540
Word Count: 212K
Book Description:
"Love is what
binds us in brotherhood, blinds us from hate, and makes us soar with desire.”
Morigan lives a quiet life as the
handmaiden to a fatherly old sorcerer named Thackery. But when she crosses
paths with Caenith, a not wholly mortal man, her world changes forever. Their
meeting sparks long buried magical powers deep within Morigan. As she attempts
to understand her newfound abilities, unbidden visions begin to plague
her--visions that show a devastating madness descending on one of the Immortal
Kings who rules the land.
With Morigan growing more powerful
each day, the leaders of the realm soon realize that this young woman could
hold the key to their destruction. Suddenly, Morigan finds herself beset by
enemies, and she must master her mysterious gifts if she is to survive.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/8E_RVXgpqB8
Excerpt
Morigan took the bracelet.
“I
accept your offering.” The Wolf’s face lit and she thought that he would leap
at her. “Yet first, I have a request.”
“Anything, my Fawn.”
“I
would like to see…what you are. The second body that shares your soul. Show me
your fangs and claws,” she commanded.
Perhaps it was the steadiness of her voice, how she ordered him to bare himself
as if he belonged to her that made the Wolf’s heart roar to comply. He did not
shed his skin but for the whitest moons of the year, and even then, so far from
the city and never in front of another. In a sense, he was as much a virgin as
she. With an unaccustomed shyness, he found himself undressing before the Fawn,
confused for a speck as to who was the hunter. The flare of her nostrils, the
intensity of her stare that ate at him for once.
I
have chosen well for a mate. She is as much a Wolf as I, he
thought, kicking off his boots and then shimmying his pants down to join the
rest of his clothing. No bashful maiden was Morigan, and she did not look away
from his nakedness, but appreciated what she saw: every rough, hairy, huge bit
of him.
He
howled and fell to all fours. Bones shifted and snapped, rearranging under his
skin like skeletal gears. From his head, chest and loins, the soft black hair
thickened and spread over his twisting flesh. His heaving became guttural and
sloppy, and when he tossed his head up in a throe of agony or pleasure, his
beard had coated his face, and she noticed nothing but white daggers of teeth.
Wondrously Morigan witnessed the transformation, watched him swell with twice
the muscle he had possessed as a man, saw his hands and feet shag over with fur
and split the soil with black claws. Another howl and a final gristle-crunching
shudder (his hindquarters snapping into place, she thought) signified the end
of the change.
Her
dreams did not do Caenith justice. Here was a beast twice the size of a mare
with jaws that could swallow her to the waist. Here was a monster that had
stalked and ruled the Untamed. A lord of fang and claw. The birds and weaker
animals vanished, knowing a deadly might was near. Around her, the Wolf paced;
making the ground tremble with power; ravishing her with his cold gray gaze;
huffing and blasting her with his forceful breaths. While the scent of his musk
was choking, it was undeniably Caenith’s, if rawer and unwashed.
Morigan was not afraid, and was flushed with heat and shaking as she slipped
the bracelet on and knelt. She did not flinch as the Wolf lay behind and about
her like a great snuffling rug and placed his boulder of a head in her lap. No,
she stroked his long ears and his wrinkled snout. A maiden and her Wolf. Soon
the birds returned, sensing this peace and chirping in praise of it. And
neither Morigan nor the Wolf could recall a time—if ever there was one—where
they had felt so complete.
Author Bio
Christian A. Brown has written
creatively since the age of six. After spending most of his career in the
health and fitness industry, Brown quit his job to care for his mother when she
was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma in 2010.
Having dabbled with the novel that would eventually become Feast of Fates for over a decade, Brown was finally able to finish the project. His mother, who was able to read a beginning version of the novel before she passed away, has since imbued the story with deeper sentiments of loss, love, and meaning. He is proud to now share the finished product with the world.
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Character Interview
Please welcome Caenith from Christian A. Brown's Feast of Fates to Diane’s Book Blog.
What is your name? Do
you have a nickname?
I am the Wolf. The Blood King. I have many names in many
tongues, though my truest, oldest and given name is Caenith.
What is your hair
color? Eye color?
Black as the night, gray as stone and storms.
How old are you?
Older than the wood beneath your feet, older than the memories
of slow-walkers would remember.
Where were you born?
Where have you lived since then? Where do you currently call home?
I come from the wilds of Alabion—though I cannot say if that is
where I was born. I call all of Geadhain my home and hunting ground.
What is in your
refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your
garbage can?
Refrigerator? Garbage can? These sound like the confabulations
of a hyperactive, technomagikal mind. You slow walkers amuse me, with your need
to create what you believe to be order. My den has clean water, some walls, and
a mostly sound roof through which I can see the stars and moon on lonely
nights. What else does a man need, but his freedom?
Who are the people you
are closest to?
Morigan. She and I are bound in ways you could never fathom. She
is the marrow in my bones, and the blood in my heart. Through our union, I have
encountered other slow-walkers, ones more tolerable than most. Thackery and
I—while enemies once—understand, and respect, the darkness that we each battle
from within. Mouse…The dead man…Macha, my little seal. The Northman. Hmph. It
seems I have “friends” after all.
What is your most
treasured possession?
My freedom. Try and cage me.
What or who is the
greatest love of your life?
Morigan, obviously. I shall never love another as I love her.
Love is a feeble word for what we share. Perfection,
would be more apt.
Which living person do
you most despise?
The Iron Queen. As old as I am, I have never known a woman so
vile or consumed by ambition.
What qualities do you
most like in a man/woman?
Strength, cunning and pride.
What do you most value
in your friends?
Loyalty.
Giveaway
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