Goddess With A Blade

Goddess with a Blade

Rowan Summerwaite is no ordinary woman. Physical vessel to the Celtic Goddess Brigid and raised by the leader of the Vampire Nation, she’s a supercharged hunter with the power to slay any vampire who violates the age-old treaty.

A recent string of murders has her at odds with Las Vegas’s new Scion, the arrogant and powerful Clive Stewart. The killings have the mark of Vampire all over them, and Rowan warns Clive to keep his people in line—or she’ll mete out her own brand of justice.

Though her dealings with Clive are adversarial to say the least, Rowan is intensely aware of her attraction to him. But she can’t let it distract her from her duty—to find and battle the killer before more women die.

This prologue was originally part of the book but got cut in the final manuscript. Prologue

Rhythmic, Rowan’s hand smoothed the stone over the edge of the sword. Over and over. The sound slithered down her spine, gathered in her teeth. The scent of the oil she’d use when done wafted up from the soft cloth on the table nearby.

Out the window the lights of the Strip illuminated the velvet dark, but not the souls of those who wandered the streets in a happy haze. Then again, she wasn’t in the soul saving business.
Satisfied when she dropped a strand of hair over the sword edge and it sliced effortlessly, she oiled the blade and sheathed it carefully.

She laced her boots and stood. In an economic motion, she grabbed the blade and sheath and strapped them to her back. The rig was custom made and fit her perfectly. It sat against her spine, unobtrusive enough that most people didn’t see it as she made her way through the city. If they saw it, it was usually too late for them anyway.

What most people did see was a redhead who stood at just six feet. Wary brown eyes and a hard set mouth. They definitely saw her body. Tall and battle hard, her frame attracted many an eye to the voluptuous curves and the long-as-sin legs. She wasn’t beautiful. Not by general standards. Her features weren’t perfect or symmetrical and freckles scattered over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. But there was something magnetic about her just the same. Something that made people look twice and want to know her.

Rowan knew it was the blood in her veins. Blood not only running in her maternal line. Blood descended from the Celtic triple goddess Brigid, whose sacred tree was the inspiration for Rowan’s name. The goddess who manifested herself through Rowan’s body and soul. But also her father’s blood. It made her minor royalty and connected her to the Vampire Nation tracing back thousands of years. Blood that made her intelligent, calculating, and cruel when she needed to be. And bent on revenge.

She turned to look in the mirror. The skirt was damned short but would serve as a fine distraction. The wristbands she wore stored garrote wire. Her belt had small phials of holy water. Most importantly, her blade was created on a sacred forge with blessed steel and bore the holy cross along its edge. Her blade was made to kill Vampires. Just like she was.

It was time to hunt.

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