Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Dashing Rogue #MFRWhooks

The Treasure (Time Walker Series Book 2)  
by Sloan McBride 

‘A Pirate’s Life for Me,’ that is Celeste’s plan. Revenge drives her to be daring. Attacks by smoke demons, and the appearance of a swashbuckling rogue—a handsome rogue with magical powers—detracts her from the mission and reveals frightening truths about her family.

Orion is a time walker—a protector of the human race—and warrior against the Underworld King and his minions. The shadowy creatures seek the young woman who has the blood of the gods running through her veins. Orion senses something mysterious—and wrong—in Celeste’s blood.

Time Walker law dictates no interaction with humans, but Orion can’t stay away. Celeste has the uncanny ability to draw demons and time walkers, alike. To protect her, Orion must keep her hidden from the Underworld and his own people. Should the gods discover her secret, they will destroy her, and he won’t let that happen.


A shadow moved in the corner of her eye then a dagger pressed against her throat piercing the skin. A trickle of warm blood dripped down her neck. The assailant looked like a cloud of peat smoke bundled into a person. Its black eyes had no substance.

Bedtime stories her papa used to tell her about wicked magickal creatures that snuck up on children at night played through her head. “What are you?” she said.

A crackling rumble came from him as he raised the other hand which held some sort of small pick. No doubt he meant to stab her with it. Celeste kicked out, catching him off guard. She dropped to the ground grabbing for the dagger in her boot.

Before she could grasp the handle, a tall, striking man engaged the blackness. With the grace of a sword master, he twirled and sliced off the assailant’s arm then his head. The bedeviled creature disappeared. Her brain barely pieced together what had happened, certain her tired eyes were playing tricks. Mere seconds expired until she stared into the frowning countenance and turbulent, brandy-colored eyes of the stranger. He raised two fingers to her temple and pressed.


The door creaked open. “Pleased to see you home safely.” Rafael greeted her with a kiss on the back of the trembling hand and a wink.

“‘Tis good to be home.” Native French spilled from her mouth as the door closed.

“I took the liberty of setting up the bath in front of the fireplace upon news of the fleet’s arrival.”

She sighed. “A bath sounds lovely.”

“You are home,” Beatrice said excitedly and crushed her in a hug. Her round face flushed from the dash down the hallway.

“I have missed you both.” Celeste pulled the smelly shirt away from her body. “Please soak these distasteful clothes in lye.” Unfortunately, burning them was not an option.

Celeste smiled as she eased her aching body into the steaming water, cursing the man responsible for her being on this blasted island. She longed for the small French town where she’d been born, the life she’d once had. To see her mother smile at the knotted, uneven stitches Celeste had sewn into a cloth while attempting to master proper technique.

The worst part of being aboard ship—the filth. Freshwater ran out quickly, leaving no clean water to drink or wash, sometimes for weeks. The pirate crews plied themselves with rum often enough. She hoped it wouldn’t be much longer before she fulfilled her vow and ended this quest.

“Blackbeard,” she spat. The bastard trusted no one, so she’d been unable to accomplish her goal. She leaned her head against the side of the tub and sighed.

Her mother used to scold her for worrying too much. “A lady should not have worry lines,” her mother would say.

Tears filled her eyes. It had only been a few months since she’d lost her mother and started on this vengeful trek.

Of course, she had worried. The stipend from her father ceased, and her mother’s weakened condition worsened. The duty to find ways to bring in food and money fell on her young shoulders. Her stomach grumbled as if the memories brought the hunger she’d battled, on days when food and money were scarce. Other women who were alone with no money sold their bodies. She chose to be a thief instead. She closed her eyes and let the warmth seep into her bones, and tight muscles, loosening her body. Drifting in the place between sleep and awake, she had no worries.

A bright light flared behind her eyelids. Her mind flashed to the dock in the North Carolina port—a steel tip at her throat, a scream lodged beneath the fear—a dashing rogue.


  1. Time Walker is an interesting concept. Liked the excerpt

  2. The dashing rogue has already crept into her dreams. That bodes well for an interesting future.

  3. I like this line: a scream lodged beneath the fear. Excellent!

  4. "A lady should not have worry lines" would be nice if only the men in their lives would cause less worry.