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Portia by Christina Bauer
Release Date: October 27th 2015 by Ink Monster LLC
Series: Angelbound Offspring #2
Pages: 250
Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult
Unlike her famous older brother Maxon, Princess Portia isn't known for killing demons or attracting admirers. The reason why is simple: a spell was cast on Portia, and the magic has marked her to one day transform into a dreaded Void demon. To fight this horrible fate, Portia’s spent her life hiding in libraries and learning magic. But when the Void demons threaten to destroy all the after-realms—and the handsome dragon Emperor Tempest offers his help—then Portia suspects that her future holds more than just a demonic metamorphosis. Fate is calling the bookworm princess onto the battlefield, and it’s a fight against both deadly enemies and her heart’s desires.
May be read as a stand-alone.
{EXCERPT}
“Only if you wish it.”
I tap my cheek, pretending to consider this turn of events. “Fine. A game it is.”
“Brilliant.”
“Let’s see. Are you maybe a quasi demon…But one who’s not from Purgatory?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll give you a hint. I’m a full-blooded Furor dragon.”
I scrub my hands over my face. Now, I’m really stumped. Mom and I have a drop of Furor blood in us. Enough for a tail, at least in Mom’s case. But Furor dragons are the real demonic deal. They have both human and dragon forms. That said, they aren’t exactly heavy into magic. I know hardly anything about them.
“Are you from the Hexenwing tribe of Furor? I know their Level One spells.”
The arrowhead end of his tail moves in a ‘no’ motion. “Wrong color dragon scales.”
I snap my fingers, as if the movement will jar my memory. My family has talked about these color schemes before. I just didn’t pay all that much attention. “Don’t tell me. Black scales on your tail mean that you’re from the Thornclaw tribe. Or is it Shrillroar?”
Another chuckle. “Neither.”
“Okay, I need a hint.”
“Why not ask your Mum? Her scales are the same color.”
I can’t help but laugh. “True.” I shake my head. “Wow, I need to take an interest in the after-realms outside of magic.”
“Maybe I can help on that score.” He takes a slow step closer. No. It’s more of a prowl. Like he’s a hunter and I’m the prey. “How about I explain over dinner?”
“Dinner.” My mental gears try to process this question. “As in you and me? On a date?”
He steps even closer. His body radiates heat. “Yes.”
The way he says the word ‘yes’ has my insides going all kinds of squirmy.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He smiles again, like this conversation is our little secret. “And why’s that?”
I know nothing about people in general, let alone men?
“I have a very busy life.”
“Doing what?”
“Stuff. Books. Things. It’s cooler than it sounds.”
Wow. Do I ever sound like a loser.
“Quite busy, indeed.” He leans in closer. “Perhaps you could squeeze in one short dinner.” He scans me carefully. “In between Stuff and Things.”
His attention sends a delicious wave of heat across my cheeks. In fact, it’s so lovely that it takes me a while to process what’s actually happening. I gasp when I realize it.
“You’re looking at my marks.”
“I know. I like them.”
The moment freezes in time. This is a man. In fact, he’s a very hot man and he likes my marks. I shake my head in disbelief. “You like them?”
“Ah, you’ve no idea how much.”
“Let’s see. Are you maybe a quasi demon…But one who’s not from Purgatory?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll give you a hint. I’m a full-blooded Furor dragon.”
I scrub my hands over my face. Now, I’m really stumped. Mom and I have a drop of Furor blood in us. Enough for a tail, at least in Mom’s case. But Furor dragons are the real demonic deal. They have both human and dragon forms. That said, they aren’t exactly heavy into magic. I know hardly anything about them.
“Are you from the Hexenwing tribe of Furor? I know their Level One spells.”
The arrowhead end of his tail moves in a ‘no’ motion. “Wrong color dragon scales.”
I snap my fingers, as if the movement will jar my memory. My family has talked about these color schemes before. I just didn’t pay all that much attention. “Don’t tell me. Black scales on your tail mean that you’re from the Thornclaw tribe. Or is it Shrillroar?”
Another chuckle. “Neither.”
“Okay, I need a hint.”
“Why not ask your Mum? Her scales are the same color.”
I can’t help but laugh. “True.” I shake my head. “Wow, I need to take an interest in the after-realms outside of magic.”
“Maybe I can help on that score.” He takes a slow step closer. No. It’s more of a prowl. Like he’s a hunter and I’m the prey. “How about I explain over dinner?”
“Dinner.” My mental gears try to process this question. “As in you and me? On a date?”
He steps even closer. His body radiates heat. “Yes.”
The way he says the word ‘yes’ has my insides going all kinds of squirmy.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He smiles again, like this conversation is our little secret. “And why’s that?”
I know nothing about people in general, let alone men?
“I have a very busy life.”
“Doing what?”
“Stuff. Books. Things. It’s cooler than it sounds.”
Wow. Do I ever sound like a loser.
“Quite busy, indeed.” He leans in closer. “Perhaps you could squeeze in one short dinner.” He scans me carefully. “In between Stuff and Things.”
His attention sends a delicious wave of heat across my cheeks. In fact, it’s so lovely that it takes me a while to process what’s actually happening. I gasp when I realize it.
“You’re looking at my marks.”
“I know. I like them.”
The moment freezes in time. This is a man. In fact, he’s a very hot man and he likes my marks. I shake my head in disbelief. “You like them?”
“Ah, you’ve no idea how much.”
AUTHOR BIO:
Christina graduated from Syracuse University's Newhouse School with BA's in English as well as Television, Radio, and Film Production. Her day job is in marketing for companies like Microsoft, Cisco, and Brainshark. Back in the go-go 90′s, she founded her own software start-up, Mindful Technologies. Christina believes that, upon close examination of Tolkien's text, it's entirely possible that the Balrog was wearing fuzzy bunny slippers.
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