The #1 New York Times bestselling author of Air Bound returns to the mysterious coastal town of Sea Haven where six sisters of the heart are bound by the. Read and Download Ebook Earthbound Game Guide PDF at Our Huge Library 2/ 12 Earthbound Game Earth Bound (eBook, ePUB) von Christine Feehan -. Earthbound by Christine Feehan is the 4th book in her wonderful Sea Earth Bound - Christine Feehan - Free EPUB Download Earth Bound.
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Water Bound. Sea Haven: Sisters of the Heart (Series). Book 1. Christine Feehan Author Angela Brazil Narrator (). cover image of Spirit Bound. Paranormal romance, set in the same town as Christine Feehan's Drake Sisters haiwingbasoftdif.gq women of varying age meet in special grief counseling group com. Witch's Reign (Desert Cursed Se - Shannon haiwingbasoftdif.gq KB .. Books Christine Feehan Earthbound (Dragons and Druids 2) - Leia haiwingbasoftdif.gq
His fury was still there. Licks of flame still curled from his muzzle and venom pooled in the reservoirs in his fangs, but his rage had lost its focus. The woman's fear and desperation were gone, no longer fueling his wrath.
Banking right, he circled the sky and reached out with his mind, trying to find the one who had called. He found nothing but silence and the worried calls of the Fey warriors he'd left behind. Then the even more worried call of Marissya. The warriors he might have ignored, but not Marissya. All Fey men were bound to protect the females of their race, even from worry. She was a mere century older than Rain, had known him all his life.
She was his friend. She was afraid. Far away in the distance, he saw the glow of Celieria. Ellie sat at the dinner table and couldn't stomach the thought of putting food in her mouth.
The terrifying anger and the disturbing sensation in her skin had passed almost as quickly as they'd come, with none but Ellie the wiser. Though she could have sworn the parlor had actually trembled, no one else appeared to have sensed it.
Was she going mad? Had the demons that had haunted her youth found a different, more subtle way to work their evil on her? Ellie knew not to let herself get upset. All her life, she'd worked to keep her emotions in check lest she accidentally trigger another seizure. She forced herself to take deep, even breaths, and filled her mind with calming thoughts.
Still, as she glanced at her mother from beneath her lashes, she couldn't quell a spurt of anger and resentment as Lauriana made pleasant small talk—small talk! How could Mama even contemplate wedding Ellie to that odious rultshart?
Did Mama know what Den had been doing in the parlor? She must have known. She'd made a series of intentionally loud noises before coming back in. What had that been all about except to let Den know he should stop his assault on Ellie? He had, thank the gods. With a final wet kiss and a last painful squeeze of her breast, Den had released her and said, "You'll do, Ellie.
Ellie's relief at being freed had rapidly turned into a sense of betrayal. How could Mama know what Den had been doing and not be outraged? Surely Mama didn't know about that awful pink slug of a tongue. Outrage and resentment clashed inside her. She was not going to marry Den Brodson. Not now. Not ever. Anger flared, quick and hot. Suddenly there was a feeling in her mind. A probing touch, as if someone or something was trying to reach inside her head. She had a distant sense of scarcely banked fury and a stronger sense of something powerful rushing towards her with grim purpose.
Ellie's spoon clattered to the table. Everyone looked at her in surprise. Had it been her imagination? Another sign of impending madness? She forced a wan smile and tugged at the neck of her chemise. I'm fine. Just a little tired. In an instant, everyone was staring at Ellie's neck. Embarrassed, she clapped a hand over the spot. She hadn't looked in a mirror. Had Den left a mark on her? Apparently so, because her father was now staring hard at Den. That shameless klat just smiled his smug smile and met her papa's gaze straight on.
Mama's eyes darted from her husband to her daughter's suitor. There was a look in Mama's eyes that made Ellie's heart stutter. Embarrassment faded—even fear of what was happening to her faded—as worry slithered up Ellie's spine. Ellie had never heard his voice sound so emotionless, so hard. Ellie did not immediately obey. Did her parents not know what Den had done to her, after all?
Was it possible that they hadn't left her alone with him in the parlor for that very reason? She raced for the stairs and took them two at a time, not slowing down until she was ensconced in the safety of her small bedroom. Needing to know exactly what sort of mark Den had left on her, she went to the small dressing table tucked in the corner of her room.
Her fingers shook as she struck a match and lit the oil lamp on the table. Soft golden light filled the room. Ellie leaned close to the mirror, tugging the neck of her chemise to one side to reveal a small, dark, oval mark at the base of her throat. In the golden glow of lamplight, the mark looked like a smudge of soot. She rubbed at it, but it didn't come off.
She felt invaded somehow, violated, and suddenly very afraid of what was going on downstairs. She sat on the edge of her bed, and waited. She didn't know how long she sat there. It seemed like bells before she heard the creak of the stairs and the slow clomp, clomp of her father's boots. She rushed to her bedroom door and pulled it open.
It's getting late. She couldn't very well tell her father about the embarrassing things he'd done to her. Please, I don't want to marry him.
Ellie returned to her own room and undressed in shadowy darkness, hanging the green gown and her mother's chemise in the small wardrobe resting against the wall. She didn't want to wear either of them again as long as she lived. After donning a cotton nightdress, she sat down beside the window and unpinned her hair. It spilled down her back in long, springy coils. Brushing it with steady strokes, she stared out at the night sky. Both the large moon called the Mother and the small moon called the Daughter were three-quarters full.
It was a bright night. Please, she prayed silently, fervently, hoping the Celierian gods would hear her. Please send me someone else. Anyone else but Den. She laid the brush in its place on her dressing table and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and closing her eyes. She didn't see the shadow fall across her room as the light from the Mother was blotted out by a large black tairen winging through the night.
She didn't see the lavender eyes, glowing like beacons, turn their light upon the rooftops of Celieria. News that the Tairen Soul himself would be coming had raced like wildfire through the city, and Ellie was convinced that before ten bells every man, woman, and child in the city would be lining the streets to ogle the legendary Feyreisen, Rain Tairen Soul, the man-beast who had once almost destroyed the world.
She began searching for a place from which to watch the forthcoming spectacle. About halfway between the city gates and the royal palace, she found a grassy knoll bordering one of the city's many small parks. From atop the knoll, the children would have an unimpeded view of the Fey procession. Sending the twins off to play while they waited for the procession to begin, Ellie spread her brown skirts and sat down without a care for grass stains or the morning dew that dampened her dress.
Her mind was still chasing itself in circles, worrying over what had passed between Den and her parents last night. She still didn't know Papa had been gone when she came downstairs for breakfast, and Mama had told her they would talk after she returned from the Fey procession. Ellie couldn't shake the feeling that something very bad was about to happen.
Her sleep had been tormented by more dreams. Not the familiar, violent dreams of blood and death or the dark, malevolent nightmares that had haunted her most of her life, but new, frightening dreams of fiery anger and pale purple eyes, of a soundless voice that called to her, demanding that she reply. She remembered tossing and turning, remembered trying to block out those eyes and that insistent voice. Not until close to dawn had she finally found peace. Now, staring up at the bright blue morning sky, with the Great Sun glowing like a huge golden ball, she could almost pretend that the dreams were nothing more than her imagination running wild … that worry about the situation with Den was to blame She didn't believe it for a moment.
Twenty miles outside the city, two hundred Fey warriors and one Fey Lord traveled at a fast lope down the broad road that cut a swath through the Celierian landscape of lush fields dotted by small villages Farmers and villagers bordered the road in small groups, having come with their families as they always did to see the immortal Fey run past.
This year, however, their attention was directed not at the road, but overhead, where Marissya v'En Solande rode the wind on the back of a massive black tairen—the infamous Rain Tairen Soul himself. The Fey warriors had broken camp three bells before dawn and resumed their trek to Celieria at a fast clip.
Marissya had run with them until Rain returned just as the Great Sun began to light the sky; then she continued the journey on tairen-back, allowing the warriors to resume their normal, easily sustainable run. They had traversed the next seventy miles in just under three bells. Everyone knew that something had disturbed Rain the night before and that he had gone in search of the source of the disturbance.
But he had not spoken of it since his return, and not even Marissya could get him to talk. When they neared the city, Rain landed, lowered Marissya to the ground, and shifted back into Fey form. He paced restlessly as Marissya and the Fey prepared themselves for their ceremonial entrance into the city. Marissya shed her brown traveling leathers for a red gown that covered her from chin to toe and a stiffbrimmed hat draped with a thick red veil that covered her face.
Her waist- length dark hair was braided and tucked out of sight. The garb would have been hot and stifling had her truemate, Dax, not woven a cool web of Air around her. Marissya was a shei'dalin, a powerful Fey healer and Truthspeaker, and none who were not Fey or kin were permitted to look upon her outside of council. All around Marissya, two hundred Fey warriors donned gleaming black leathers and spent at least half a bell polishing and re-sheathing the scores of blades each warrior wore when he left the Fading Lands.
Her mate, Dax, clad in the dark red leathers of a truemated Fey Lord, tended his own weapons with similar care. Though he was no longer of the warrior class—no Fey Lord was permitted to put his mate at risk by continuing to dance with knives—his blades would always stand between her and danger. Marissya finished her physical preparations long before the men, and she went to join Rain. It had been many years since she'd seen him in such a state.
He was restless, edgy, pacing back and forth with short, rapid steps. There was so much power in him, so scarcely contained that a shining aura surrounded him, flashing continuously with tiny sparks.
His eyes glowed fever-bright. His nostrils quivered as if he were an animal scenting something in the air that set him on edge. If he'd been in tairen form, he would have been spouting flame. He was still in control of himself—she and all the Fey would have known if he were not—but he was in a high state of agitation, and that did not bode well for the long day ahead.
She knew better than to touch him—one didn't touch raw power without receiving a shock. Instead, she reached out to him on their private mental path, the one they had forged centuries ago in friendship.
For a moment last night I was in her mind; then I lost her again. Who is there? His long, elegant hands clenched and unclenched. His chest heaved. He was angry and frustrated, yes, but now Marissya realized it was more than that.
The one! The one word that explained everything. He shouted it out loud: "Shei'tani! Marissya's breath left her in an astonished gasp. Her mind reached instinctively for Dax, her own truemate, sharing the shocking truth of Rain's emotions with him.
Their gazes met across the distance, and as one they turned to look at their king. He was pacing restlessly once more.
Every few moments his head turned towards Celieria and the power in him burned a little brighter. They both knew the instincts driving him, knew that because he was the Tairen Soul those instincts would be far more intense and far harder to control, fueled by Fey and tairen passions combined.
If they weren't very careful, the coming days could end in disaster. Long before the Fey warriors drew near, Ellie and the twins saw Rain Tairen Soul soaring through the sky. He was all that legend claimed, and more—a gigantic, ferocious black feline with glowing purple eyes, frightening and beautiful at the same time.
He winged like a raptor over the city, circling again and again, emitting warning bursts of fire when the thronging crowd moved too close to the approaching warriors. Even from a distance, she could see the glistening danger of his sharp, venom-filled fangs. His ears were laid back on his head, his claws extended.
When the Fey warriors came into view, the sight of them was almost as awe-inspiring as that of the Tairen Soul. There were at least twice as many warriors as had ever come before.
Row after impeccably formed row marched into view, and for the first time in Ellie's memory, magic surrounded them in a glowing aura of light. A murmur of wonderment rose up from the crowd. The Fey warriors presented a stunning display, clad in black leather from neck to toe and bristling with silvery swords and knives that gleamed in the sunlight.
Every warrior clutched two long, curving blades called meicha, and what seemed like hundreds of razor-sharp throwing knives called Fey'cha were tucked into leather belts that crisscrossed their chests. As if that weren't enough, each warrior wore two massive seyani long swords strapped to his back.
It was said that one Fey warrior was as lethal as ten champions. Looking at their fierceness, their precision, and the tangible glow of magic enveloping them, Ellie believed it.
In the center of the formation, surrounded by an even brighter glow, walked an unarmed figure draped in voluminous folds of blood red. It was the shei'dalin, the Truthspeaker, Marissya v'En Solande, and the handsome, dangerous-looking man in red leather by her side was her truemate, the Fey Lord Daxian v'En Solande. As the procession moved closer, the crowd surged forward, everyone straining for a better look.
Rain Tairen Soul roared and spouted a warning flare of fire. With many screams and uplifted heads, the crowd wisely jumped back. In the sudden shifting of massed bodies, Lillis lost her footing and fell to the ground. She howled in pain when Lorelle, trying to avoid being knocked over herself, trod on her hand.
Ellie was there in an instant, hauling Lillis to her feet and inspecting the injury. The child's little fingers were red, the skin slightly torn over one knuckle. I'm so sorry. Would you like me to kiss it better? You kiss the pain away better than anyone.
A tiny electric current leapt from Ellie to her sister, making them both jump. Ellie laughed a little. I didn't mean to shock you. Ellie straightened in time to see the Fey warriors come to an abrupt halt, their curved meicha blades raised. The ones closest to the Truthspeaker drew their long swords with a hiss of metal leaving scabbard. The shei'dalin turned her head from side to side as if scanning the crowd.
Beside her, her mate had razor-edged swords in hand and was ablaze with power. The crowd went silent. From her vantage point on the knoll, Ellie watched with bated breath and clutched the twins to her side.
She didn't have any idea what was happening, but it was something unusual. Something important and frightening. The crowd around Ellie began shoving, everyone trying to get a better glimpse of what was going on. Stay close to me! Flame seared the air, followed by another roar of tairen fury. From the street, the shei'dalin raised her arms and shouted, "Rain!
Someone stumbled heavily into her back. She staggered and tried to keep her balance, but her leather shoes slipped on the grass. With a cry of alarm, Ellie toppled off the knoll.
She fell forward, pushing the children to safety with one hand and reaching out with the other to break her fall. She landed hard and screamed in pain as a man's boot heel stamped on her fingers, crushing the slender bones with a snap.
Pain and terror swamped her senses. People rushed madly around her, and another boot ground into her broken hand. She shrieked again. Barely able to think, certain she was about to die, she curled her body into a tight ball and brought her broken hand up over her head. She was dimly aware that people were screaming around her. She didn't see Rain Tairen Soul fold his wings and drop like a hurtling black meteor towards the ground. But something touched her senses, something made her realize that suddenly the sun was gone, and so were the people hurting her.
She glanced up and let loose another shrill cry of horror as the huge, terrifying, black-winged tairen swooped down upon her, metamorphosing at the last chime into Rainier vel'En Daris Feyreisen, the infamous Rain Tairen Soul, who lightly stepped from sky to ground, one black-booted foot at a time. He towered over her huddled form. Death-black hair hung in long, straight strands that blew about his face in the windy remnants of the tairen's downdraft.
His skin was pale and faintly luminescent, his face terrible in the perfection of its stunning masculine beauty, and his lavender eyes glowed with a brilliant, icy fire.
With a wave of one hand, he threw up a towering cone of Air and Fire magic that surrounded the two of them in a whirling haze of white and red.
Ellie cowered in fear, and instinctively held up her broken hand to ward him away. With a sobbing gasp, she rolled to her feet and staggered back. Her heart was racing, her breath coming in fast, shallow gasps, but she couldn't seem to get any air.
Had he used his magic to steal the breath from her lungs? She knew the Fey could do that sort of thing. Kem surah, shei'tani. For all she knew, he'd just told her to prepare for her impending death.
Don't come any closer! Ve ku'jian vallar. He reached for her, ignoring the way she sobbed and flinched away from him. His fingers, strong and surprisingly warm, curled around her forearms and trapped her with effortless strength.
She had the overwhelming sensation of immense power, deep sorrow, and a terrible longing. But underlying all of those was another emotion—a violent swirl of rage. She cried out and struggled to free herself, succeeding only in grinding the bones of her hand together.
Agony knifed up her arm. A scream ripped from her throat. She fell to her knees. Unexpectedly, she found herself free. She blinked and risked a glance up at the Feyreisen. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands clenched in white- knuckled fists at his sides. He was shaking as if he were in pain. His eyes flashed open again. The ice was still in them, and confusion, and more than a hint of madness.
She watched him fearfully, her body poised to flee if he came towards her again. With a flick of his finger, he fashioned a door in the whirling cone of magic.
His voice, deep, ancient, commanding, called out in Feyan. A moment later, the Truthspeaker stepped through the doorway, followed closely by her mate. The Fey Lord Dax had sheathed his swords, and as he stepped inside the cone of magic the Feyreisen had erected, his own glow of power winked out. He followed a few feet behind his mate as she approached Ellie.
Though the shei'dalin's face was hidden behind folds of red, she radiated waves of compassion and reassurance. Despite everything—including her own mind whispering that this was a Fey trick—Ellie felt her terror begin to abate.
She needed to trust this woman. The Truthspeaker would never cause her harm. There was no need to be afraid. She could be calm. All would be well. The soothing compassion, the compulsion to release her fear, was impossible to resist. Dazed, lulled by the powerful hypnotic spell of a Fey shei'dalin, Ellie didn't protest when Marissya reached for her broken hand. The Fey woman's long, pale fingers, slender and elegant, passed over Ellie's.
Warmth sank through Ellie's skin and into the flesh and bone below. Her pain evaporated. A strange ticklish tingling spread across her hand, and she watched in astonishment as her bones straightened and knit.
Within moments, her hand was whole and unhurt. She flexed her fingers experimentally. There wasn't the faintest twinge of pain.
Ellie swallowed the lump in her throat and raised awestruck eyes to the Fey woman. Ellie wanted to sink into the comfort of that voice and absorb its tranquility. She fought off the lethargy with a brisk shake of her head. Had she offended them somehow? The Feyreisen was still staring at Ellie, and he was frowning. She began to inch away.
Immediately, the shei'dalin turned back to her, lifting her heavy veil as she did so. Huge blue eyes, so full of compassion Ellie could drown in them, were smiling at her from a face so beautiful it would put a Lightmaiden to shame. Her eyes widened as she realized the Truthspeaker was probing her mind. It was said that a shei'dalin could strip a soul naked, leave even the strongest of men sobbing like infants. Truthspeakers could bend anyone to their will.
The shei'dalin gave a muffled cry and staggered back. The Tairen Soul's eyes flared bright, and a bubble of lavender light burst into glowing life around Ellie. A feral snarl rumbled from the Tairen Soul's chest, and he bared his teeth like a wild animal on the verge of attack.
In a blur, he leapt between Ellie and the shei'dalin. In the same instant, the shei'dalin's mate also leapt forward. Somehow she knew it had come from the Feyreisen. Scared out of her wits, Ellie pushed against the purple light enveloping her, trying to escape before the two Fey Lords decided to slaughter her where she stood.
Instead, to her utter amazement, the Tairen Soul whirled on the shei'dalin and her mate. His hands rose, power arcing from his fingers in blinding flashes just as the other Fey Lord's power snapped into blazing light and he sent a bright bubble of energy surging forth to wrap around his mate.
Like Rain's, Daxian v'En Solande's teeth were bared in naked menace, but that menace was directed solely at the Feyreisen. The two men faced each other, faces drawn in fury, power bursting around them, scorching the air with the scent of ozone.
Her voice wasn't calm now. It was afraid. Please, forgive me! Calm yourself. Guard your feelings. Can you not see he is protecting you? I didn't mean to frighten her. She is unhurt. See for yourself. Be calm. You must be calm. It is you who frighten her now. She only surprised me. It is my fault. I should not have probed her. She survived, saved by a stranger who witnessed her undergo a physical transformation.
That's not the only thing that's different. Justus De Gradi is a man who can teach her that control. Expand text… He's handsome, arrogant, and not entirely human. He reveals that she is a Mage - an immortal made of light, not magic. She must now make a choice: Rebuild her life in the human world with the man who saved her, or live with Justus and learn how to use her extraordinary gifts. Justus has sworn an oath to protect her life, but can he guard her from the one man who has a right to claim it?
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