"Beware the darkness and what hides in it...They're coming."
They say your first crush stays with you forever. But what do you do when his brothers are out to kill you?
Priestess Under Fire
Yes, it's Bridget Feblood's first book! Now available at Smashwords and major ebook vendors!
Follow Bridget Feblood as she's thrown into a world of secrets and shadows to fight for her very survival. |
What's new:
Title for Bridget Feblood's second novel: Hanging in the Depths! Tentatively scheduled for release at the end of the year.
In the Future:
New trailers in the works. Also, Samantha Blake plans on posting a sample of the second book here before she releases it.
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Scene from Priestess Under Fire:
“You wanted to see me…boss?”
Felix felt his own lips grow taut at the sneer behind the word. Neither had been completely forthright since they met and the mutual hatred had grown over the years. It didn’t help that Bridget insisted on pushing them together as though they might wake up one day and decide to be best friends. For the most part they swallowed their protests and managed to let the girl go on dreaming. But reality had taught both men far different lessons.
“Have a seat,” Felix suggested.
Conlan remained as still as if he’d been carved from the floor.
Felix did a ten count. He didn’t have the patience for any more games. The letter burned through his peripheral vision, reminding him just why he’d called for the pugnacious young man in the first place. With a sigh Felix waved a hand.
Conlan looked as though he wanted to flip him off. Then the tension melted as Thorne gave up on the rebel façade and moved to obey. A calloused hand snatched a pencil from a pen holder on Felix’s desk as he folded into the chair. One ratty sneaker kicked upward and landed with a thud on the edge of said desk, dropping a few flakes of dried mud in the process, and a thick lock of raven’s wing fell over his right eye.
Thorne didn’t bother trying to remove it. The pencil tapped against his knee as he fought for his own self control. Either it was some rhythm for Night Howls or a scientifically proven method for driving people mad. Possibly both.
Felix didn’t comment beyond an arched eyebrow. Every move the youth made seemed carefully orchestrated in an effort to bring the wrath of all seven hells down on him. At least where Felix was concerned. Put the boy in front of Bridget’s infectious grin and aliens flipped a switch to turn him into a completely different person.
“Bridget told me she had another nightmare,” Felix started, breaking the glacier wall between them as quickly as possible.
The offensive dial turned down a few notches. Not surprising considering how much time Feblood spent with Thorne. Emerald eyes searched Felix’s face; the pencil belt out a few more erratic beats.
“She’s having…difficulties,” Conlan finally contributed. He let out a deep breath, suddenly looking ancient, and leaned forward. “Those dreams wear her out. She really doesn’t mean to be late. You know that.”
Felix nodded. The earnest expression hovering uncertainly on the other side of his desk left him momentarily stunned.
“I know,” he said, this time a bit softer. “Relax. I’m not pushing her out.”
The gaze grew intense, piercing, and Felix fought against an urge to fidget. Him; uncomfortable in the presence of a teenager! But the boy had a glare that could set fire to water and an ego that swore it always knew best when it came to the girl out front. Unable to find fault in Felix’s words or expression, Conlan settled back in his seat, pencil tapping faster.
“You’re not going to fire her?”
“No matter what you might think I do have her best interests at heart,” Felix muttered.
“Yeah. Right.” Hardly heartfelt.
Felix did another ten count. The pencil was getting on his nerves. But if he lunged across the desk and rammed it in the boy’s ear then Conlan would win. He’d helped his fair share of troubled youths but this one felt hopeless.
Then again, what did he expect? It wasn’t exactly like he’d given Thorne a reason to trust him.
“There’s something else,” Felix added before Conlan could stand. A hand reached for the envelope, hesitated, and then tossed it at the impatient teenager.
Yes, there was definitely guilt. He hadn’t liked invading the privacy of her purse, and he didn’t like the idea of sharing information like this with Conlan, but the boy spent more time with Bridget and might be willing to talk if he felt there was a genuine threat.
“Not interested in your love letters,” Conlan growled, moving to throw it back.
“Just read the damn thing, Thorne!”
Scowling, the teenager did as ordered.
“Who…”
“Bridget found it in her purse today,” Felix answered. “She didn’t seem to know how it got there and intends to blow it off as a prank.”
“Halloween is coming up,” Conlan hedged.
“Does this sound like a typical Halloween prank to you?”
The boy’s expression grew darker. His hands were trembling as he shoved the letter back into its envelope and tossed it onto Felix’s desk.
“No,” he said at last, unable to meet Felix’s gaze, “it doesn’t.”
Felix felt his own lips grow taut at the sneer behind the word. Neither had been completely forthright since they met and the mutual hatred had grown over the years. It didn’t help that Bridget insisted on pushing them together as though they might wake up one day and decide to be best friends. For the most part they swallowed their protests and managed to let the girl go on dreaming. But reality had taught both men far different lessons.
“Have a seat,” Felix suggested.
Conlan remained as still as if he’d been carved from the floor.
Felix did a ten count. He didn’t have the patience for any more games. The letter burned through his peripheral vision, reminding him just why he’d called for the pugnacious young man in the first place. With a sigh Felix waved a hand.
Conlan looked as though he wanted to flip him off. Then the tension melted as Thorne gave up on the rebel façade and moved to obey. A calloused hand snatched a pencil from a pen holder on Felix’s desk as he folded into the chair. One ratty sneaker kicked upward and landed with a thud on the edge of said desk, dropping a few flakes of dried mud in the process, and a thick lock of raven’s wing fell over his right eye.
Thorne didn’t bother trying to remove it. The pencil tapped against his knee as he fought for his own self control. Either it was some rhythm for Night Howls or a scientifically proven method for driving people mad. Possibly both.
Felix didn’t comment beyond an arched eyebrow. Every move the youth made seemed carefully orchestrated in an effort to bring the wrath of all seven hells down on him. At least where Felix was concerned. Put the boy in front of Bridget’s infectious grin and aliens flipped a switch to turn him into a completely different person.
“Bridget told me she had another nightmare,” Felix started, breaking the glacier wall between them as quickly as possible.
The offensive dial turned down a few notches. Not surprising considering how much time Feblood spent with Thorne. Emerald eyes searched Felix’s face; the pencil belt out a few more erratic beats.
“She’s having…difficulties,” Conlan finally contributed. He let out a deep breath, suddenly looking ancient, and leaned forward. “Those dreams wear her out. She really doesn’t mean to be late. You know that.”
Felix nodded. The earnest expression hovering uncertainly on the other side of his desk left him momentarily stunned.
“I know,” he said, this time a bit softer. “Relax. I’m not pushing her out.”
The gaze grew intense, piercing, and Felix fought against an urge to fidget. Him; uncomfortable in the presence of a teenager! But the boy had a glare that could set fire to water and an ego that swore it always knew best when it came to the girl out front. Unable to find fault in Felix’s words or expression, Conlan settled back in his seat, pencil tapping faster.
“You’re not going to fire her?”
“No matter what you might think I do have her best interests at heart,” Felix muttered.
“Yeah. Right.” Hardly heartfelt.
Felix did another ten count. The pencil was getting on his nerves. But if he lunged across the desk and rammed it in the boy’s ear then Conlan would win. He’d helped his fair share of troubled youths but this one felt hopeless.
Then again, what did he expect? It wasn’t exactly like he’d given Thorne a reason to trust him.
“There’s something else,” Felix added before Conlan could stand. A hand reached for the envelope, hesitated, and then tossed it at the impatient teenager.
Yes, there was definitely guilt. He hadn’t liked invading the privacy of her purse, and he didn’t like the idea of sharing information like this with Conlan, but the boy spent more time with Bridget and might be willing to talk if he felt there was a genuine threat.
“Not interested in your love letters,” Conlan growled, moving to throw it back.
“Just read the damn thing, Thorne!”
Scowling, the teenager did as ordered.
“Who…”
“Bridget found it in her purse today,” Felix answered. “She didn’t seem to know how it got there and intends to blow it off as a prank.”
“Halloween is coming up,” Conlan hedged.
“Does this sound like a typical Halloween prank to you?”
The boy’s expression grew darker. His hands were trembling as he shoved the letter back into its envelope and tossed it onto Felix’s desk.
“No,” he said at last, unable to meet Felix’s gaze, “it doesn’t.”