Passions sizzle as destruction looms. Border Aflame is a triple dose of steamy romance set against the background of an invasion by the powers of darkness. It is a tale of high fantasy, of swords and sex, passion and plunder in a world where reality and myth collide.
A small party of mismatched mercenaries race ahead of destruction like the spume thrown up before a storm as an army of brutal trolls invades their world. Step into a sultry fantasy world of fantastical creatures, magic, strapping knights in armor, and the women who use sex to dominate them.
Helmuth, their leader, is a master horseman who has defeated men and monsters in battle, but knows that his greatest conquest is his wife’s heart. Gem, his lover, is trained in all the erotic arts that drive men mad with passion. Jen, Gem’s sister, is a warrior woman whose young body is toned, ripe, and breathlessly anticipating the moment when she will burst out onto the world of both love and war. Mokeeva, the defiant goblin-princess, is earthy, and insatiable. Rell, is a representative of the dwarf lord, but would rather drink and chase girls than follow orders.
The travelers live, love, and prepare to face death as the scattered forces of humanity try to gather an army to defend their land from destruction.
Targeted Age Group:: 18+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
A love of High Fantasy and a sensual imagination. Mixing the two seemed quite natural.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I tried to create characters who were opposites. Gem and Jen are sisters but are completely different. Gem is a courtesan she entertains men and entices them on every level. Jen is a fighter and frightens men away. Helmuth is the quintessential soldier, a man of great power and responsibility, whereas Jorn is a lazy oaf. As a goblin, Mokeeva is a delightful puzzle of innocence, violence, and earthy passion. When you pack such opposites together in a wandering caravan, there just has to be fun.
“Throne room,” Helmuth whispered with a wave at the seat. His comrades nodded and gripped their weapons tighter. They were passing through the goblin’s holy of holies. To be caught would mean instant death.
Helmuth waved his sword toward a chamber door set off to their left and they crept over to it. There was a skull painted upon it in white, as pale as death in the torchlight. It was not an encouraging picture.
Helmuth took sword and shield in his left hand and gently pushed open the portal. It swung noiselessly inward revealing a warm glow inside the room.
Sword tip leading the way, he crept in while the others followed along close behind. There were more lamps inside than had illuminated the passageway and they were of better quality. The group could see that all sorts of entertaining brick-a-brack lined the room’s walls. There were broken pieces of furniture, bits of colorful dishes, torn swaths of silk brocade.
In the center of the room, was a high bed heaped with the soft, pale skins of ermines. Wrapped in and among the supple furs, was curled a goblin girl. Her greasy black hair was braided and bound behind her pointed ears, and she was barely dressed in a swath of scarlet silk that shimmered in the lamplight.
Helmuth stood very still and pointed at the floor with the tip of his sword. At first it had looked as though it was strewn with garbage, lumpy shadows abounded. Upon closer inspection, however, they could see that it was actually goblin men sleeping upon the floor around her bed.
Helmuth started to back away, but Jorn pointed to a rickety table next to the bed. There, under the flickering light of an unglazed clay lamp, was the delicate, gold-capped phial they had been searching for.
“Looks like the warchief’s daughter has been having fun with the potion,” Jen whispered with a wave at the sleeping mob of goblin men.
Helmuth gestured for her to be silent. He hesitated as he considered making a try for the bottle, but as he stepped forward, Jorn placed a hand upon his own chest and bobbed his head. His motions made it clear that he would try and retrieve the treasure instead of his master.
There was no gesture of argument. They all knew it was a better idea. Without armor, shield, or sword, the servant would be quieter than either Helmuth or Jen. Without waiting for an answering nod, the little man sheathed his knife and began to wend his way through the floor full of sleeping goblins. He walked as upon cat’s feet, stepping carefully between each sleeper with the utmost determination.
He closed the distance quickly and wrapped his long fingers about the phial. The magical elixir sparkled in the flickering lamplight as he lifted the vessel from the tabletop.
Jorn showed it to Helmuth proudly and his master only waved for him to return. Jorn teased him by pretending to drop the phial. He smiled at his own cleverness as Helmuth raised a hand in suspense.
His silent laughter only lasted a moment as he turned his head and found a pair of large, dark eyes staring at him.
The goblin girl was awake!
Jorn held up a hand as if to ward off the aural storm he saw about to overwhelm him.
When she let loose an outraged scream, all the sleeping goblins jumped up and Jorn began to run. But he was too slow. His escape was instantly blocked by rising goblins. Jorn dodged back away from the snatching arms of one husky brute, then another, but he got too close to the bed and the goblin girl jumped upon him from behind.
About the Author:
Maria Mendelsohn has lived in the South Pacific, Europe, and the US. She has been married for more than thirty-five years and has four children, two dogs, and a crabby cat. She has studied martial arts and metaphysics. While her English mechanics aren’t perfect, she still dares to write about fantasy for the love of it and sex because it’s as natural as breathing–Besides, it’s just good, naughty fun.
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